Malevolence Festers
by liliedove
Summary: They all died. Cicero does prefer his new home in Dawnstar though. And the Listener, OH the LISTENER! So mighty, leading us with numbers so small! Not to mention the stress of having a conspiracy formed against her very life... Hoohoohoo! I hope we die a horrid death together! I do like the Listener. Yes, Cicero likes her very much indeed.
1. New Begninnings

**A/N: **Hello. This is far from the first time I've used this site, but it's been a while. I am planning on using this as a practice for writing my own particular story was highly influenced by my time in the Dark Brotherood and my adoration for the annoying Cicero. I hope you enjoy its development! I generally update near the end of the week.

* * *

"Ooh! Oh my! What happened here?" The joker questioned in a theatrical tone of surprise as he leaped over a rotting corpse. "Dead! Dead they all are! But how? How did such a thing happen?"

"I was the one who killed them, actually. I'm rather surprised they're still here, based on how often this place is used." The dark elf glanced back at her companion. He gawked as he stared into the rotted eyes of one of the faces. Hesitant for but a moment, he jabbed at the dead man's chest. "Ohh-hoooo! Heehee! He's been dead for quite a while now, hasn't he? You killed him too? Even this monstrosity of a man? Thick- TALL! All in all; he alone has enough blood to paint this hall! Well, he had. Had enough blood. It's all but dried up now, of course. He's dead! That's why! Because you killed him! Heehee! But you did kill him right?"

"Of-"

"OF COURSE! Of course you did, for you are the Listener! Oh, great and powerful Listener! Why should Cicero ever have doubted you? What you say must be true!" Skipping over the drawbridge, he hummed to himself.

"Cicero never understood thieves, really... take someone's things before you kill them? And they call me crazy..." He released another laugh, putting a hand on his stomach.

The listener watched him with dull amusement, walking a few paces behind. "Astrid had good connections with the Thieves guild. We may as well use them than squander in the ashes of the sanctuary, don't you think Cicero?"

"OH! The sanctuary! MY- I mean, _our_ – poor mother almost burnt to death in there! And you too! All because of that harloting slanderer! Mocking mother so! But she has met her doom. Yes, yes she has! That overgrown sheepdog too! Now you are Mother's Listener, and Cicero is still the Keeper! Listener and Keeper, as it should be! Hnmmm?"

She scowled at him, then shaking her head. "I don't like it when you speak of our den mother like that. She was still a child of Sithis, even if her ways were rather... different."

Cicero stopped and gave her a look of protest, his eyes bulging out of his skull. "She was _your _den mother. The only mother Cicero has is the Night Mother!"

"Of course, but don't forget that it was Astrid who brought me into the Family; if it weren't for her there wouldn't be me. I won't deny that she really slipped up, it was me she betrayed. She made amends with the Night Mother at her end though, and that is that."

"Hnnm, I suppose you're right... Though there were other ways you could have come into the Family."He pouted, now walking in stride beside her. "But a traitor is a traitor! Cicero will only not speak another bad word about that treacherous traitor because you told him to. Oops! I already did!" He covered his mischievous smile as he giggled. "Listener, tell me again why is it we are in the Ratway?"

She looked ahead, pointing towards the mouth of the tunnel. "After we get through that room there's a door to the Ragged Flagon, a pub. It's the gathering place for the Thieves Guild. I suppose you could say it's like their own sanctuary. We're meeting a man by the name of Delvin Mallory, our connection through Astrid. Apparently they had been in business for a long time together."

"Ah! So we're going to have some thieves fix up our new home! A strange thing; thieves placing and not taking." He scratched his head.

She smiled slightly as she pulled at the door handle."I suppose you could say that." As they walked through, a light from the ceiling revealed their faced to one another. Cicero grinned as she glanced at him, excitement bubbling over in his eyes.

"It's her again." A woman groaned.

"Looks like she brought a friend with her this time too." Said another.

"Hey Delvin! Your customer from the Dark Brotherhood is back! Hurry up so she can be on her way again!" The woman shouted towards the back as the two figures approached.

"What a warm welcome. I suppose the Thieves Guild is just as famous for its hospitality as its thievery." The dark elf said loudly as she put on a smile. Cicero now drew back behind his lord, smiling all the more: the Listener had a way with her words and tone when she wanted to. Not a sight one often saw, though. Putting on a show, she was! Making herself more assertive! Not that she wasn't frightening enough on her own to earn respect without being very assertive.

"A lot more hospitable than your lot. At least we don't stick daggers into people's guts." The woman snarled. An amused look faintly spread across the Listener's face.

The Listener smiled and muttered something under her breath. She leaned back against the bar counter, shifting her weight between her sore feet; they had been on the road for days with little rest.

The bar tender looked at her nervously as he cleaned one of his mugs."H-hey, you're going to need coin if you're going to buy something." He said faintly. She turned to look at him.

"Yes, but not for your business I'm afraid. Maybe some other time. We're here strictly for business matters today."

A pale man in black entered the room, making his way towards the elf and the joker as soon as he laid eyes on them."Ah! It's you! Sorry I took so long, had to finish some personal business." Pulling a chair back from a small table, he indicated the two seats.

Politely refusing the offer, the Listener simply approached the table. "There's no need Delvin, this will be short visit. But thank you."

Nodding his head, he folded his hands togther. "I can't say that I was expecting another visit from you. I thought that you all had been wiped out! I supposed I was wrong then. Is... Is Astrid still..?" The joker stifled a laugh as she shook her head. "Oh, I see then. What business can I attend to for you?"

"Supplies. I need the Dawnstar Sanctuary cleaned up and refurnished." She crossed her arms over her chest.

The man had a genuinely surprised look on his face. By the tone of his voice, he seemed rather fasinated."The Dawnstar Sanctuary eh? So that's where the lot of you are staying now? ...Alright I'll do the best I can to accommodate, but I need gold. The credit from the amulet has already been spent."

Cicero danced over, hooking his chin on her shoulder as he cupped his hand to her ear. "What if he's lying? A thief is a thief is a thief that he is! What if not a septim was spent? Hnmm?" The elf retrieved a large bag from her robes. Cicero's jaw dropped at the sight of it. "All that shiny, clinky gold!"

"I wouldn't be flashing that around here." Delvin said in a low voice, greed showing in his eyes.

"Hnm, yes but then of course every person in this room knows what I'm capable of. No need to spill blood without a price tag attached to it. I'll buy anything and everything you have." Shrugging the joker off her shoulder, she handed the bag over to the man. He nodded.

"I hear the Emperor's body was left with only a small wound. They say it was from an arrow, but when they found the body there was no weapon to be found. Strange choice for a mage such as yourself, I would have thought you'd have made a bigger statement than that. I'm curious, why'd you keep the arrow? As a trophy?" He muttered in a low tone. She moved closer.

"He was a polite and willing victim. How could I give him a treacherous demise? Killing him was enough of a statement. Business is business, and I decide how I kill. I fancy myself well in the Destruction school as I am in all the Arcane Arts, but I am first and foremost a master of Conjuration. Ponder that and your thoughts about the missing arrow shot by a mage should be put to rest."

"A master Conjurer?" He said as a smirk appeared across his face. "Well lets just hope I never have to be on your bad side."

"Let's hope indeed." Turning, she grabbed the attention of the joker who was rubbing his chin in thought. "Cicero, we'll be leaving now."

A smile cracked across his face again. "And we're OFF!" He said jogging back by her side. When they were out of earshot, he bent towards her again, giggling.  
"That bar tender! That sneaky, tricky, squirmy little man! Did you see him? Leaning in REAL close?" She glanced at him as he began strutting and bobbing his head about. "Oh the Listener and the Keeper! The Listener and the Keeper! We're off, we're off, we're off! Where to? Cicero doesn't know- but you do! I shall listen to the Listener!"

"Cicero." The Listener said once they reached the drawbridge.

"YES My master?" He replied merrily.

"I need you to head home to the Sanctuary, separate from me. I have some personal business to attend to alone here in Riften, so I can't be seen with you. We split once we get to the exit into the canal area. Understood?"

"Oh, well if you say so. Mother needs me anyhow. Yes, she does... She must be getting lonely there without me!"

When they neared the exit, the dark elf withdrew robes from her satchel, then commanding Cicero not to look while she changed if he wanted to keep his head. After a few short remarks from the joker, she threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder again, now wearing a master mage's robes, her dark hood and robe folded in her hands. Placing them in Cicero's hands, she turned to leave."Take these home. I shouldn't be seen with them." Cicero grinned as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"The Listener is always cautious. Always planning ahead. That's why you're still alive. I'll see you at home, my dear sister!"

* * *

Nazir sat hazy eyed as he stared into the small fire. There hadn't been much to do since the demise of the Family and the sanctuary near Falkreath. He had cleaned up the new sanctuary somewhat, but with help on the way he didn't see a need to do so much manual labor all on his own. Babette certainly wouldn't help him. The old hag. Sucked his blood for free, and otherwise sat around all day doing absolutely nothing. He rubbed his hands together. The Dawnstar sanctuary was definitely bigger, but it sure was colder. He wondered what Babette thought of the cold, though he assumed it was one of those things that didn't affect vampires all that much. He perked up when he heard the heavy door of the sanctuary push open. He chuckled a bit. "Madrale, did you get what we needed? I thought you left us for dead!" There was no reply. He heard the Night Mother's coffin doors drag open. "Uh, Madrale, you didn't have your tongue cut out when you were gone, did you? It would be quite hard for you to act as the Listener if you can't speak." Still no reply. He then stood, glancing at the upper room. Slowly his hand grasped the hilt of his scimitar as he sneaked up the stone stairs. Turning the corner he froze when he made out the figure cooing over the Night Mother's corpse.

"YOU!" He exclaimed. The joker turned and presented himself.

"Yes, it's me! Cicero! Hello my brother!"

"You're _dead_, Madrale killed you months ago!"

"Ah! No, you see Cicero didn't die!"

"Well I can see that!" Nazir drew his Scimitar as he took long strides. At seeing his intent, Cicero recoiled with hands up in surrender.

"Please don't harm Cicero! Poor, loyal Cicero is innocent, really!"

"Innocent? Heh, you're anything but innocent you damn bastard!"

"What's going on? I heard a commotion!" A small girl entered the room.

"This fool is still alive! How in Oblivion he was able to do that, I can't imagine!" He stepped forward, grabbing the joker by the collar of his suit.

"Madrale must have spared him the time she was sent after him."

"I know, but I just can't believe that! Why would she let this fool live!"

"But she did! She did! The Listener can't kill the Keeper, and the Keeper can't kill the Listener, you see? I tried, I can't kill her, hee-Hee-HEE!"

"You're so annoying! I'll cleave you in two in a second!"

"Nazir, let him go. Madrale let him live for a reason." The girl put a hand over the one holding the sword. The Redguard glared down at her. He snarled as he put his scimitar back in its sheath.

"Fine. But until she get's back I'm not going to let him run wild, slashing things like last time. We've got to lock him up somewhere." The joker shriveled at this.

"Oh, please no! Don't lock poor Cicero up!" Nazir pulled him back on his feet again.

"Oh yes I am! You're not going to cause any more trouble for me!"

"Where are we going to put him?"

"Don't you worry Babette, I'll figure something out."

* * *

The dark elf appeared seemingly out of nowhere before the great black Door, which was situated on the outskirts of Dawnstar. It was still daylight, and though she was a well respected person in Dawnstar she didn't want any curious eyes discovering that she was one of the people who came in and out of it: no one could be trusted to keep such a thing confidential. The last thing she needed was to have the last standing Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Skyrim discovered from a sloppy covering of tracks. She hopped the joker thought the same. Her worry was soon swept away when she remembered his previous status as a full-fledged assassin of the Family. However, she still had her doubts.

"What... Is Life's greatest... ILLUSION?" The door whispered.

"Innocence, my brother." She replied.

"Welcome home, Brother." The hand upon the door flashed, indicating its accessibility. She paused for a moment, taking in the beating sound of the magic surging through the door before placing her hand on the imprint. It trudged open slowly. She had barely walked through the front hall before hearing echo of anxious voices.

"I think I heard the door open." She heard Babette said quickly.

"Yes, I think so to." Nazir replied. He quickly ran up the stairs to meet her. "Madrale, you're back! I thought you'd never return!" He looked her up and down. She was wearing a master mage's robe, like they wore at the college of Winterhold. "Where are your robes?"

"I gave them to Cicero when I told him to return to the sanctuary." She replied.

"Wait, so you DID spare his life?" He said in disbelief.

"I told you. Aren't I smart? Who knows how she would have reacted if you had killed the fool?" Babette said joining them. The elf glanced at both of them, pausing for a moment before looking over to where the Night Mother's coffin stood alone.

"Where is he?"

"Well, you see I didn't want to deal with him going all crazy again like last time."Nazir said hesitantly. "I wasn't sure how to deal with him until you returned."

"So we locked him up." The girl chimed.

"You locked him up." At first her look was of disbelief, but then she shook her head. "That's not terribly surprising really. So _where_ did you lock him up?"

Nazir gave a sigh of relief when he saw no signs of anger. "Follow me, I'll show you." Nazir led her through a couple of the rooms before they came to where what must have been previously used as a catacomb or something in the like before the cave's use as a sanctuary. Pausing before one of the coffins, he let out an exhausted sigh.

"You put him in a coffin?" She shook her head again, chuckling a little.

"We couldn't think of any other secure place to put him." He replied.

"Okay now let me ask, how long has he been in there?"

"Long enough for him to finally shut up, and short enough that he is still in the land of the living. Let's put it that way. I'm just glad he's not talking. He'll probably be in shock enough to not talk for a few days." The contents of the coffin began stirring.

"I hear voices... Listener, is that you? Is it really you? Cicero knew you would come for him! Cicero knew it! The Listener, great and mighty! Cicero knew you wouldn't leave him to die! No, not like this!"

"Well, I've been wrong before," he said before giving the coffin a solid kick. The Joker made a few whimpering sounds.

"No need to be that way Nazir, it's just me, Cicero!"

"Yeah I know." He grumbled before picking the old lock on the coffin. When they opened the lid, all eyes landed on the joker. His eyes, which were momentarily closed, shot open. When he made eye contact with the elf, a relieved smile grew across his face. "LISTENER!" He exclaimed. "It IS you! It's really you! I knew you'd come for me!"

"Yeah I did," she replied, kneeling on one knee beside the coffin. "Where are my things?"

"Things? What Things?" He paused for a moment. "OH! You mean THOSE things! Right here, here the are! Cicero had no time to put them anywhere else you see, before they locked him up!" He pulled them out from under his coat. "Here they are! They kept Cicero nice and toasty warm while you were away! You save Cicero in so many ways! Oh how you plan ahead!"

Nazir leaned towards her. "If I were you, I'd consider burning those."

"You're a mean one! That you are, you're a mean one Nazir!" He whinned. He then broke into a laugh. "Oh but no matter, I still have the Listener! She listens to poor, sweet Cicero."

As Nazir continued throwing insults at the joker, the elf felt another presence enter her mind. She felt herself drawn to leave and return to the front room of the sanctuary. A woman's voice from the distance could be heard in her head as though it were also right in front of her. It was loud and cold, and consumed her attention."Listener. Come to me, come to my coffin."

* * *

Please leave reviews with your thoughts! You don't need something super sophisticated, just something encouraging! Fan fiction writers live off reviews so don't be shy!


	2. Babette's Deception

**A/N: **Thank you so much to those who have reviewed! It really does make my heart sing! (And help me trudge along with writing such long chapters... I don't think I've written a chapter this long before! Not in one sitting!) To those who are following along, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it! Again I HIGHLY appreciate reviews, as they help me totter on with my quest of writing this story.

* * *

"What news do you have for me today, Vekel? Or are you just wasting my precious time?" The woman said coolly after they became situated in the room. The man's head was slightly bowed in respect. He wiped his clammy hands on his apron.

"I do have news for you today, as a matter of fact. Something that's worth your while." He said in a confident voice, opposite to what his body displayed. There was a pause in the room. The woman scowled.

"Well, what is it? Spit it out, I don't pay you to waste my time!"

He hesitated a moment longer, weighing the consequences of what he was about to say. "A week ago, in the Ragged Flagon. We had an interesting visitor." The woman let out an exasperated breath as she began walking about the room.

"Alright, I'll play along with this little game of yours. _Who_ was this interesting visitor you speak of?"

"It is not exactly a who, but a what." He replied. She turned and approached him, stopping inches away from his face. Her gaze drilled into his eyes, so much so that when she spoke again he couldn't take his eyes from hers.

"Then _what_, pray? _What_ visitor do you speak of?"

He gulped, wrestling with his lips as he tried to muster up the courage to say the words. He released the air from his nose. And then, he spoke in a tone lower than a whisper. "The Dark Brotherhood." The woman froze. Her gaze turned from irritation to an undisguisable fear, and then... eagerness. Eagerness towards something that only comes around once in a hundred lifetimes. Something she could not resist. She crooked her head slightly to the side as she gazed at the man, a smile on her face.

"Just what have you stumbled upon, my dear Vekel?" She said in a low voice. "Yes, you were right. This _is _something worth my while." The man let out a small chuckle as she began circling around him. "Yes, worth my time indeed. This is something worth looking into. Tell me, what did this servant of the Great Lord Sithis want with a bunch of thieves lying in their filthy den?"

"They were speaking to one of the members about getting some merchandise. Apparently there were survivors from the purging, and they have found a new place to stay."

"Where is this new sanctuary?" She gazed up, her eyes of a lioness stirring up the fear in his heart once again.

"I don't know. I don't think I heard them mention the exact location." he replied. She stroked her chin with her finger and thumb, continuing to trap the man in her gaze as if pushing him for more answers. After a long pause, she dropped her gaze, walking towards the other side of the room as he let out a small sigh of relief. She turned again and looked at him.

"What did this _Dark Brotherhood _associate look like?"

"I don't really know. It was a womer. Dressed in black and red mage robes, with a right hand on both sides. All I know is that she's a Dunmer. Her hood disguised everything else. I am pretty sure that it was the same visitor that came many months ago."

"Really now? Isn't that interesting... This person must be a messenger of some sort. Perhaps their Speaker? No matter, I will find the information I need. Now tell me, who was this man they came to see? Or woman, perhaps?" He began shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking at the ground. She pursed her lips. "Oh come now Vekel, give me a name."

"How do I know you won't kill him?" He murmured.

She raised her eyebrows, lowering her face as she looked at him. "If someone can be of use of me, why should I desire to kill him? Now tell me, who is this thief she came to see?"

He continued to wrestle with the decision of whether or not to speak, but after another minute he gave in to her wishes. "Delvin Mallory."

She lifted her eyebrows. "Delvin Mallory...?" She repeated. After another pause, she looked at him again. "Is there anything else you came here to say?"

"No, that is all."

"You may go then."

He held his hands and gave a short bow before turning towards the doors. "Yes, Madam Maven Black-Briar."

* * *

"Madrale,what's wrong?" Nazir put a hand on her shoulder. She stood, dropping her wrinkled robe and hood on the ground. "Madrale?" All eyes watched her as she turned and began walking away without a word. Nazir followed hastily, pulling her around by the shoulder before grabbing both of them, giving her a hard shake. Her eyes widened as she came to her senses, but only for a moment.

"I, I can't... I," she said. "I need to go. Don't stop me." She began turning again, but Nazir only tightened his grip until he felt a blade's cold touch on the back of his neck. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Let go of our dear sister, Nazir." Cicero said in a calm voice.

"Yeah, and why should I?" He scoffed, a deep frown set on his face.

"Well for one, Cicero's got a dagger to your neck. One little movement of my wrist! -And Nazir will be dead on the ground in a puddle of blood. But don't you know? She's the Listener. She is listening, listening to Mother's call."

Navir grunted, slowly releasing his grip. The cold on his neck disappeared a second after. He turned then, glaring. "You didn't need to put a knife to my neck for me to hear reason! Perhaps you don't understand because of your lack of it."

A sour look flickered on Cicero's face for a moment, then to be replaced by a toothy grin from ear to ear. "Mother is speaking, MOTHER IS SPEAKING! Don't you see? She's speaking to the Listener! C'mon, let's follow her to go see Mother!" He danced a little jig as he followed after her, leaving Nazir and Babette to look at one another in bewilderment.

"Well, I suppose we should follow then." He said.

"Sounds like the thing to do." She shrugged. The two of them then ran to catch up with the Listener and the Keeper, who had already made their way to the stairs leading to the upper room. Once they were there, they all congregated around the place the Night Mother's coffin stood open. The mother, a mummified womer wrapped in a black garment with her mouth left ajar and her eyelids closed around nothing. She stood in her coffin, skin the color of the ill and sagging loosely where there had once been muscle to tighten it. She stood, silent. There was not a single whisper of life within her. And yet, at that very moment, she spoke. The Listener stood directly in front of her, staring into her non-existent eyes. Nazir and Babette looked from one another, feeling only chaos in the silent presence of their company. The joker bounced lightly on his feet; the few ounces of excitement he couldn't restrain. His eyes were thirsty, drinking in the picture of the Night Mother and her Listener before him.

After the long spell, the Listener slowly turned to greet the expecting looks in their eyes. She took a breath, only then realizing that she had scarcely taken one in the past few minutes. Clearing her throat, she spoke. "Someone has performed the Black Sacrament. We are to meet a Nord by the name of Jesper Yngvar in the Drunken Huntsman in Whiterun." Nazir and Babette looked on in amazement, while Cicero's eyes glazed over in awe.

"Did Mother really say that?" He whispered, a small smile on his face as he approached the coffin. Madrale walked towards the two other members, who again looked between each other in confoundment over what had happened in the past several minutes.

"Well," Nazir began. "I suppose we'll have to decide who will take up this contract. Rather, I suppose that you will have to decide." When no one spoke, he continued. "I'd be willing to take it. It has been awhile since I have spilled any blood myself."

"There must be two taking on this contract. With our weakened state, we can't afford anymore deaths within our Family. I myself will accompany whoever is going on this contract." The Listener said as she crossed her arms.

Nazir frowned. "Two? You must be joking! Sure we're weakened, but I'm sure any one of us can handle whatever this Jesper Yngvar requests! Having another person along could botch the job! There are still other sacraments that have been preformed that I have been informed of by my resources. Who will do those? Will we leave those unanswered?"

She shot him a stern look. "I will not take any chances. The people already think that we've been completely wiped out by the Imperial Legion. Even before I was a member of the Family, sacraments were ignored. If you recall, an incident involving that very thing is why Astrid approached me about joining. People will always call upon us." The Listener's gaze was as firm and unyielding as ever.

Nazir pursed his lips, staring back until he couldn't stand it anymore. He turned to the girl."What of you, Babette? What are your thoughts on this?"

She turned to look at the Listener with an agreeable look on her face. "Actually, I think I'm going to side with Madrale. It's true, without a Listener for so long we lost track of so many possible contracts. I remember the time when we did have someone who could hear the Night Mother. Things were much different then. I think it's most wise to listen to our new Listener. She was chosen for a reason, you know."

Nazir let out a sigh of defeat."Fine. Who's taking this contract then? We need someone to stay behind for when our shipment arrives. I don't trust that clown's skills in business communications."

"Cicero can hear you still, you know." He said as he glanced back over his shoulder. "Oh, but you're right- YOU'RE RIGHT!" He sighed. "Poor, poor Cicero... Mad they call him! Where has Cicero's sanity gone?"

"I think I should take on this one." Babette stated as she leaned back with her hands on her hips.

Nazir snickered as he crossed his arms. "Oh really? And what made you decide that?"

"Something you said, actually." She retorted with a smirk. "Something about a shipment arriving? A bunch of thieves surely wouldn't listen to a little girl like me, even if I am in the Dark Brotherhood. If you want these men to stay alive, I think it best that Nazir stays behind. He's always been the most courteous of us with regards towards guests, after all."

"I suppose your reasons are substantial." He grumbled. " Alright, I agree that Babette should go. I can't guarantee that Cicero fellow over there will be here when you get back though. Well, not breathing at least."

"I trust you will manage," the dark elf said smiling as she glanced back at the fool who was now dancing in front of the Night Mother's corpse, singing about something absurd.

Within the next half an hour, they had gathered their supplies for the journey and met by the entrance. Thinking it best not to be seen with one another by anyone in the village, Babette went on ahead by the forest while Madrale did her usual rounds with the merchants in town. By the time the sun was low in the sky, they had met up again on the road, dressed in commoner's clothing and a pack on each of their backs.

"How's business?" Babette asked as she glanced up at the Listener.

"It's going well. It is annoying that the merchants never have enough money to afford more than one or two of my potions though." She replied. "There's a war going on, you'd think they'd be getting more business than they are. People are always looking for healing potions or fatal poisons, as well as armor."

"It's not that they aren't getting business, it's just that people generally aren't trading as high quality goods as your potions and enchanted items. It's the woe one must go through for being the best." She let out a dramatic sigh. The Listener laughed.

"You're quite the complimenter, Babette."

"It comes naturally." Smiling haughtily for but a moment, she then cocked her head to the side and cupped a hand to her ear. "You hear that Madrale?" The dark elf paused in thought, concentrating on whatever Babette was trying to point out.

"A wagon?"

"Yes, I think so at least. I'm pretty sure." Looking back as they walked until the wagon came in sight, she drew closer to the Listener and slipped a hand into hers. As the wagon drew near, they could hear the driver whoaing his horses to a stop.

"Now what is a woman and child doing out on this cold road? And at this hour? It's nearly dark! Who knows what will sneak up and eat you both!" They turned.

"My Mother and I are going to Whiterun for a wedding."

"Hush now! It's none of their business to know where we're going!" The Listener said with a motherly scowl on her face.

"I- I'm sorry Mother, I wasn't thinking is all." She said with a saddened look on her face as she looked down at her feet, still holding her hand.

"Look, I'm on my way to the Reach. I won't be going directly to Whiterun, but I'll get you mostly there. You'll certainly be safer traveling there with me than alone as you two are. I don't like the idea of a woman and child out on the road alone, let alone at night. I wouldn't be able to sleep! The thought of something gobbling you two up."

"Oh, PLEASE Mother, let us travel with them! It will be so much faster! And my legs are so tired from walking. Please Mother, PLEASE?" Babette's eyes mimicked every word she said. It took all of the power within the dark elf to keep from smiling at her wonderful performance. Giving a dramatic pause as she looked between the girl and the driver, she let out a sigh to show that she had given in.

"Alright. I suppose we can travel with them. He's right, the road is dangerous." A smile spread across the driver's face.

"Well, hop in back then! We've got plenty of room!"

Having her arm swung as they walked, she led them towards the back of the wagon. They were then met by two faces, both Nordic men.

"Let me help you up darling," she said as she put her hands on Babette's waist. The older of the two men came over and helped her onto the wagon. Once she was situated on a bench, the Listener grabbed onto the man's outstretched hand as she pulled herself up.

"Thank you, you're ever so kind to help us."

"It's no problem Ma'am." He said with a smile. The other man simply looked on in dull amusement. Soon everyone was settled and the driver urged his horses on again.

"How exactly are you this child's mother? A Dunmer the mother of a human girl? That's absurd!" The other man's tone was highly condensending.

The Listener looked over at the younger man who hadn't helped them aboard. She gave him a snarl. "You're not one for manners are you?" She said crossly. "I'm her godmother. Her parents were killed back when the Foresworn first began stirring."

"Oh, please don't tell that story! It still hurts!" Babette sobbed, wrapping her arms around the Listener's. The driver glanced over his shoulder at them.

"You must be from around the Reach then huh?" He said solemnly. "I'm sorry to hear of it. Where were you from deary? Back when you lived with your parents?"

"I lived in Dragon Bridge." She sniffed.

The driver nodded his head in understanding. "Ah yes, Hjaalmarch has some of those brutes as well as I can recall."

"Dragon Bridge? Isn't that where Commander Maro and his son resided not too long ago?" The younger man said, now leaning forward in interest.

"I believe it was," the elder replied.

"I still can't believe that the Emperor was assassinated, and that Commander Maro's son was a part of the plot! It's been said that he was so angry about the whole deal that he hunted down the Dark Brotherhood and whipped them out! For the better I say." He crossed his arms as he sat back. The old man frowned.

"The Darkbrotherhood is no worse than sell-swords. I don't see why it was for the better for him to unleash his anger on their lot."

"Quiet you old man, don't you see? They're like sell-swords but with a blood lust that gets innocent lives killed! They've got a deity backing them as well. Sithis brings no good to our world. He only destroys."

"Oh, you're just like all the other young Nords of the day! Arrogant, and know very little of the gods and their roles in this world!"

"Yeah? Well why should I pay any attention to them when there's a war going on? I have more important things to be worrying about than the wishes of a deity whoever they may be." The old man only shook his head in disapproval.

The Listener looked down to find Babette sleeping against her arm. Whether or not she was truly asleep she didn't know. Either way, it helped keep the image of the child she was portraying. There wasn't much conversation after that. At least not including them. Before she knew it, she herself fell asleep, waking from a bump in the road the next morning.

"I'm sorry I can't take you all the way," the driver said as he let them off. "But I've got a schedule to keep, and these two paid me to bring them to the Reach. I pray you get there safely. Enjoy the wedding!"

"Thank you, kind sir!" Babette said smiling as she grabbed the Listener's hand. "I'll never forget your great kindness on my Mother and I! Bye old man!" The elderly man waved with a smile as the wagon began to move again. Once the carriage was out of sight, Babette dropped her hand. "You have good acting skills. Very nice story about my parents."

"You're not half bad either; you were just like you are in your retelling of your contracts! You haven't embellished at all."

"Didn't need to."

* * *

Nazir looked down at the village as he stood with his back on the open door. One by one men sent by Delvin Mallory carried in assorted things. Beds, banners, pots, pans, books, alchemy stations, plants, and other things in the like. They were all big brutes of men, perfect for manual labor. Perfect for him not to have to lift a finger if he didn't have to. He watched as a horse was led in with supplies on its back.

"Hey, you with the horse! You better clean up after it if it decides to leave a mess." The man gave him a snarl over his shoulder. "Well I'm certainly not picking it up," Nazir murmured to himself. After the last of the supplies was carried into the sanctuary, he closed the door. Occasionally one of the men would look over at the closed coffin standing in the front room's corner, though not saying anything about it. Nazir was surprised that Cicero wasn't standing guard there. He made his way down the stairs and watched as men wove through the hallways, conversing over where to put the new things and what out of the old things were best to be removed all together. Surely Babette would have been fine dealing with them. There was no use pouting over the fact that he had to stay behind, though. At least the most he'd possibly have to do is yell at a few men for placing something in the wrong area.

"This is fun, is it not brother?" Perhaps things were still not that great after all. Cicero was still here.

"What do you mean?"

"Why, all the new things of course! Making this place truly our home at last! Hnm! Cicero always thought this place was best!"

"Yes, I heard about your previous trip here. How exactly did you survive? You got Arnbjorn a pretty good scar, I've got to say." The joker puffed out his chest with a victorious look on his face, a bubbling laugh in his throat.

"Cicero is better than you give him credit for, Nazir. I was once a regular assassin of the Family, but then Cicero was chosen to be the Keeper! Cicero misses that old life, being able to feel the blood trickle down his arms... Not that I don't like being the Keeper, I do! Cicero is very honored to be by Mother's side!"

"Huh. Well I still don't see what possessed Madrale to spare you. Perhaps we were wrong though. We had gone so long without a Listener that we adjusted to a new lifestyle without the direct assistance of the Night Mother or Sithis. Who knows, you probably would have died with everyone else if you hadn't ran away when you did." Cicero looked at him, looking almost sane for a moment.

"Oh, on the contrary. I would have killed many of those soldiers, may have been able to even save the sanctuary. If that Astrid woman hadn't betrayed us all by trying to throw the Listener under the wagon, we'd still be living in Falkreath and everyone else would still be alive." There was a long pause as they stared at one another. Nazir wrestled with the thought that Cicero might even be right in all that he had just said. A thought he did not like at all. The skin around Cicero's eyes crinkled as a broad smile plastered across his face again. "Oh well! Cicero still prefers this sanctuary over the other! There wasn't enough room in the other one! Everyone too close together!"

"You know," Nazir said slowly. "I was rather surprised that any of use survived the attack. Especially Madrale. One moment she was with me, saved my life in fact, then the next minute I looked and she was gone! We found her in the Night Mother's coffin after things settled down." Cicero chuckled as he rubbed his chin.

"The Listener tends to curl up in Mother's cold, loving embrace quite often it seems. She must love her as much as I do!" Nazir's face wrinkled.

"Yeah I suppose she does then..."

"The Night Mother tends to like to speak with other women. Cicero wonders if that's why he wasn't chosen as Listener despite his great loyalty. The last one in Cyrodiil, Alisanne Dupre, was a woman. Ah, but she was burnt up! Burnt to a crisp by mages fire while protecting dear Mother! Poor Mother... But perhaps it was a foreshadowing of our great Listener! A plan devised by no other than the Mother and the Dread Father himself! The Listener Madrale, savior of the last standing Family! The purging fire of the sanctuary, and the Listener being a mage no less?" Nazir only looked at him in bewilderment, either because what he just said was the most intelligent thing he had ever heard him speak or because it was the craziest idea he had ever heard.

"She is quite perfect for the job. So experienced in life outside of the Family, and yet so young to have such knowledge so soon! A prodigy! And Cicero does love her hair as dark and lovely as the void's mysteries. It lays so nice against her collar bones. Such a pretty elf."

"I'd keep that last bit of information to yourself, or you'll be the next to burn by mages fire." Cicero burst out laughing as he held his stomach, tears streaking down his face.

"Let's hope she doesn't see Cicero's recent journals then! Heeheehee!"

* * *

By evening, Babette and the Listener arrived in Whiterun. Prior to entering, the Listener changed into her brotherhood robes and hood, while Babette remained in what she had been wearing: she didn't really like the guild's wardrobe, and none of it fit her right anyway. She remarked that it was, "Surprising that the guards do nothing when they see you wearing those. I suppose they're just too stupid to realize what it means, or they do and they underestimate you."

"Are you sure you want to go in there with me? I don't know how he will react to seeing a child."

"Oh please," she said as they approached the front doors of the Drunken Huntsman. "I do this all the time! I love the look on their faces!" Upon entering, they received a greeting from the man behind the counter, but nothing more. It seemed that people there minded their own business. A perfect place to meet in public. "Do you have any idea what this Jesper Yngvar looks like? Nord doesn't quite cut it."

"No, I don't." The Listener looked around. There were nearly a dozen Nords in the room. This problem, however, was solved for them.

"You, in the mage robes." She looked to see who had spoken. A man dressed in costly clothing stood in a back corner. She approached, Babette shortly behind her.

"Jesper Yngvar." She said plainly. The man looked around, and then beckoned her closer as he nodded his head. "So you're this Dark Brotherhood assassin who survived? And who is this child? I don't need a child hearing my affairs."

"She's with me."

"Really now? An assassin with a little girl following her around? How touching."

"I'm an assassin myself, dimwhit." Babette said crossing her arms. The man raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. He then returned his attention to the Listener. "Come, let us talk somewhere... More private."

"I doubt anyone will overhear us in here, no one is paying attention to anything."

"I suppose you're right... Alright, so I'll tell you my story. I need you to kill my bride."

"Your...Bride?"

"Yes! You see, I married her last spring. Then she ran off with my cousin, and now apparently she's about to marry another man! Here, in Whiterun! I suppose its because she has married twice now in the Temple of Mara, so if she goes again she'll embarrass herself. Right now she's in the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood. I want you to go there, and kill her! Then, I want you to make sure a message is delievered right away to her groom, Balmir Sattir. He's staying in the Bannered Mare until her arrival. I'll be waiting there to see his reaction to her death. You will do this, won't you?"

"Depends. How much will you pay?" The Listener replied.

"I'm not a poor man! I have all the money you'll need for a job like this!" He pulled out a bag of coins, almost bursting at the seams. "I have this, and another bag just like it! That's how much her death is worth to me! So please take on this deal!"

"It's a deal, Jesper Yngvar."

As they left the tavern, they both looked at each other in disbelief. "Are you a prophet or something?" She asked Babette.

"I always hear you get wiser as you age, but who knew we'd actually be heading to a wedding? Well, stopping one actually." The Listener looked at the distance through the open gate of the city.

"Riverwood isn't far from here. We could easily walk there before nightfall. What say you? We get this done tonight?"

As she had predicted, they reached riverwood before nightfall and had their own room rented out in the inn. Posing as the traveling Godmother and child once more, they were able to mingle with the rest of the guests. It wasn't difficult to figure out who the bride was, for she was gloating about her wedding that would take place in Whiterun's temple in only two days. Hnming and sighing, she went on about how wonderful her dear husband to be was and how great it would feel to give him a big, wet kiss as soon as their eyes met. She was drunk, at least they hoped. As she sat at one of the small tables, now alone as the majority of the people were gone or asleep, Babette tip-toed over and greeted her.

"Excuse me, sorry to intrude but I just think it's so wonderful that you're getting married soon! People are just so sad here in Skyrim... I'm happy that you've found happiness!" The woman looked up, one hand clasped around her mead. As soon as she saw her she cooed over her.

"Oh you dear child, you're not intruding at all! Come, join me in my happiness! You can come to the ceremony if you'd like!"

"Oh, do let me! That sounds so merry! I'm sure my mother would make time for it! For you! It just sounds so wonderful it's hard to believe!" She sat across from the woman. "How long did you say it would be again until the wedding?"

"Two! I will marry in two days!" She exclaimed.

"I hope that one day I will be like you, but it is so hard to find love in Skyrim. Not with how gloomy things have been with the war and this mentioning of dragons." The woman made a sad face, and then leaned forward with a stern one.

"Why, of course you'll find love like me! Never mind this talk of war and dragons! Why, before you know it the war will be over, and besides the attack on Helgen there has been no other mention of dragons around here! Must have been a fluke! Perhaps they were raided and they used the excuse that it was a dragon! Here, why don't I show you my beautiful wedding dress? It's in my room!"

"Oh, would you? I'd LOVE to see it! Can I, can I please?"

"Come now! Follow me!" Wobbling slightly as she stood up, she lead her to her room, closing the door behind her. She giggled and hiccuped, putting a finger over her lips as she tip-toed to the wardrobe. "This will be our little secret, you understand? It's a nice dress, I don't want anyone taking it."

"Okay." The woman opened the doors and threw out her hands in presentation. "Tadaa!" She said with a smile. Her smile faded though, when she began to sway side to side. "Oh I think I must lay down. I'm, I'm much too... Too..."

"Oh, ma'am let me help you!" Babette helped her lay down in her bed. "Shh, just go to sleep now, it's alright." She said as the woman's eyes became increasingly heavy. "Sleep now. It's time for you to sleep. Forever." The woman tried forming words with her lips, but those too grew heavy. A smile spread across Babette's face as she licked her lips. "Yes, it's time for you to sleep forever my dear, for it's time for me to eat."

Babette sneaked back to the room she and the Listener had rented. She herself felt rather sickly after taking in the alcohol and poison she had placed in the drink along with the woman's blood. Slowly, she crawled into bed next to the Listener, waking shortly after the sun rose in the sky when only a few people were up and about. Quickly, she tip-toed across the room and opened the door to the bride's quarters. She then let out a blood curdling scream. Anyone who was still asleep was now awake and alarmed.

"What is it?" The inn keeper rushed to where she was standing. Seeing the sight, her eyes grew wide. "By the gods," she said faintly. "Orgnar, go fetch the guards! Quickly!"

"What is it Delphine?"

"There's been a murder!"

"A murder?" He said in alarm. "By the gods, I'll be back as quick as I can!"

The inn keeper approached the body to inspect it.

"What happened to her?" Babette whimpered. The woman paused for a moment, hesitant in responding.

"It was by a vampire bite. I've seen it before, and I can see the wounds from the puncture." Babette began to cry as she called for her mother. The Listener entered the room a moment later, giving a remark of dismay at the sight as Babette wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Don't you worry ma'am. The guards will take care of the body. It must be long gone by now. I'm just glad that the child wasn't harmed by such a beast."

"But that woman!" Babette sobbed, "She's supposed to be married tomorrow!"

"What?"

"Tis true," The Listener added. "I overheard her last night. Apparently they were to marry in the Temple in Whiterun, and her lover is in the Bannered Mare waiting for her. I believe his name was Balmir Sattir."

"That's quite a memory you've got there." She commented.

"I've always been good at remembering things. Was keeping a good eye out for my little godchild here too. The woman seemed harmless, but I couldn't take a chance. Not after what happened to her dear parents a few years back." Babette squeezed her harder as she buried her face in her abdomen while sobbing. The woman nodded her head in understanding. "I think it would be good to send a messenger for the groom. Poor soul, losing his lover only a day before their wedding..."

"Yes, I'll make sure that happens. Look, you don't have to stick around here. You can leave when you need to leave. I'll clean up this mess."

"Thank you. Oh I hope that poor man will be alright," she said as she rubbed the child's back. "Let's go dear, we should back up our things. We have a long journey ahead of us." After a sniffle or two and a nod of the head, they returned to their room. By the next morning, they were on the road again, heading back to the sanctuary. With two large purses now stuffed in their bags, their contract was complete. It was easy to say that the man was satisfied with their work.

"I've never seen a man so happy to kill his own bride in my life," Babette commented.

"She's a common whore I'd say, but as low as that is I don't think it quite deserved a sentence such as death."

"Well, her death is our life. We're one step closer to rebuilding our Family. You and I, we make a good team Madrale."

"I think it was mainly you who made this team good, Babette. I wonder what would have happened if I sent Cicero to attend with you?" Babette mad a sour face as the Listener laughed.

"I'd rather go with Nazir than him! Yes, I definitely think we make a good team. The best team in the Dark Brotherhood."

"We won't need to go on teams forever though. Just for a little while longer. I think our Family's trouble is now in the past."


	3. Returning to the old ways

"_I'm just glad that the child wasn't harmed by such a beast _she said!" Everyone at the table began to laugh. "That inn keeper was pretty smart! I could have sworn we were a breath away from being found out when she started questioning Madrale about how she knew so much!" Cicero's eye widened as he leaned forward from his perching position on the chair, looking across the table at the dark elf.

"The Listener? Discovered by an inn keeper? Surely you _jest_!" He began laughing at his own joke as everyone looked at him. "Cicero would have liked to have seen that!"

"How did you solve the problem?" Nazir asked as he leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, Madrale was able to shut up her curiosity quite easily!" Babette said as she wrapped an arm around the Listener's, resting her head on it. "Why, what if you were a mother and your dear child was talking with a strange, drunk woman in the late hours of the night? Wouldn't you keep an eye on what was being told?" Nazir began to chuckle.

"She? Your Mother? Now how exactly did you pull that one off?"

"That's the same thing one of the men in the wagon we traveled in asked me. The poor girl, lost her parents to the Foresworn! A friend of the child's dear mother and father could have never turned away her orphaned godchild!" The Listener replied as a small smile slid across her face.

"I congratulate you on your acting skills, Madrale. You're nearly as good as I am! I'd raise a cup in your honor, but I believe I'm too young. _Don't you think_, Mother?" She said glancing up with large, meek eyes. Another laugh went around the table.

"A wagon huh? So that's how you returned so quickly this time." Nazir said as he lightly pulled at the knot in his beard.

"We weren't on the road long before it came up behind us. The driver insisted on driving us most of the way. That's when Babette here turned on her acting skills. I'm telling you, she's not exaggerating when she tells her stories!"

"Oh, I believe it." He said glancing over at the girl.

"How did it go with the thieves? Did you have any trouble?" The Listener asked, taking another sip of mead.

"It was fine, Delvin Mallory has a pretty goon rein on them I've got to say. Even so, everyone has their breaking point. _Especially_ with him around." He glared in Cicero's direction at the end of the table. Realizing the attention was on him again, a smile cracked.

"Cicero was _only _taking a look at what they were doing! A man walked in the room HUFFING and PUFFING with a bookshelf, so Cicero decided it would be good to HELP the _poor_ man! So Cicero approached and said, could a humble servant such as myself help you with that _Sir_? And he said, that's _Ma'am_ to you! So Cicero said, OH! Your husband must have a fetish for trolls, because you're the hairiest woman Cicero has ever seen! Well, she didn't like that joke." He gurgled a laugh.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Nazir grumbled. "Anyway, we'll need to restock our food supply, and soon. I'm looking to recruit new members, and I've already got my eye on a few."

"I'll let you deal with that how you see fit Nazir, seeing that you've already got a pretty good idea of what needs to be done." He nodded his head. She paused for a moment, setting her bottle down lightly on the table before folding her hands together. "Alright, while we are all here I'd like to announce something. Since we're at a new chapter in our existence, I thought we should return from where we branched off after the death of my predecessor. While things became understandably harder to organize and deliver without a Listener, we are no longer in that season. The Night Mother has chosen her new Listener, and while we are currently small in numbers we will grow and have to prepare now for what is to come. Nazir and Babette... I understand that you have adapted to a new way of life within the brotherhood, and this may be an awkward transition for the both of you now. However, it is necessary. Astrid was a good leader and watched out for her own, but the fact still remains that she broke the law in deciding that her word was the only law." There was a short pause.

"Are you speaking of the Five Tenets?" Nazir said in a low tone. The Listener met his glance and nodded.

"Yes, I'm referring to the Five Tenets. You should know them, they're written on the walls of every sanctuary. Sithis' word is law. The last thing we need is to repeat what happened last time and have another annihilation because our new recruits are no different than sell-swords who are looking for a divine excuse to bath in blood."

"Are you suggesting that the destruction of the Falkreath Sanctuary was due to neglecting the Tenets?"

"Yes, I am Nazir." He only looked at her. Any spirit of merriment from just moments before had completely vanished from all of their faces. After another pause, she continued. "There's another thing. Nazir, I'm appointing you as our Speaker. You'll have your choice of a Silencer, though I'm sure there's already a promising candidate you'll be thinking of." She glanced at Babette. "Normally there would be four speakers, but of course that's not a possibility at the moment. Once we have these new recruits you speak of, you'll be the one giving out the orders I receive from the Night Mother."

"It is an honor, my Listener." He bowed his head. Cicero looked between their faces, an excitement bubbling up within him.

"Isn't this a WONDERFUL occasion? Yes indeed, let Cicero tell you a joke! What did the Flame Atronach say to the Frost Giant? Is it _me_, or is it HOT in here?!" He sputtered out a laugh as Nazir began to grumble.

* * *

Nazir took long strides across the bridge. The sanctuary was silent, save the whistling sounds of air slipping through the cracks in the stone. It didn't take long after their reuniting meal together before the Listener and Babette retired to their rooms, likely exhausted from the long journey. Cicero on the other hand had kept himself busy tending to the Night Mother's corpse for a long while, though he himself was now no longer in the common area. As he turned the corner, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw Babette bent over in the garden.

"I saw that your room was empty. I thought I might find you here." He said as he leaned against the stone pillar. She looked up at him as she dug her hands into a spider's nest.

"Yep, here I am." She replied. She then approached the alchemy table, setting the eggs down before crossing over to her desk to grab the other ingredients she needed.

"I wanted to see what your opinion was on all of this."

"You mean about what Madrale said at supper?"

"Of course."

Placing one of the ingredients into her mortar and pestle, she began grinding. "Well, I stand with her if that's what you mean. She's the Listener after all."

"Well of course, I don't mean to say anything against the Listener or the Night Mother! I'll follow them until I'm nothing but ash! And then even in the void, I will serve them."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Well, don't you find this even a bit upsetting? It's just... A lot at once I suppose. Only a month ago we were under the full authority of Astrid. We were a family. Gabriel, Arnbjorn, Festus, Veezara... It's hard to accept that they won't stroll in one day as if they were coming back from a long term contract, and even harder to believe it wasn't a lifetime ago already."

"I know what you mean, Nazir. This isn't the first time I've lost my dark family. Over the years I have heard many reports about them being caught and killed, or getting into a drunken brawl and admitting who they were only to be dragged off to prison for a life sentence. But it certainly has never happened like this. They say there's nothing new under the sun, but as I grow older I seem to find that new things must occur under the moons if not by the sun. You've just got to learn to accept it. The world will move on without you if you don't."

"Yeah I've realized that." He murmured. He let out another sigh. "At least Madrale is a reasonable sort. I couldn't imagine following a nutcase like Cicero. Thank the gods the Night Mother didn't pick him, huh?" He let out a lighthearted chuckle.

"I do like Madrale a lot. She's the sort who can take the pressure and keep a group like us together. During our contract she could have easily done it all by herself in her own way, but instead she allowed me to take the glory for it. Not to mention the pay."

"What?"

"She of course didn't give me _all _of the pay. She put aside what would naturally go towards our regular expenses, but she didn't take any pay for herself. She paid me as if I took the contract on by myself."

"Perhaps she figured you needed it more than her. She had quite the pocketbook prior to joining the Dark Brotherhood. She really got around Skyrim, I can tell you that much. She's a Thane both here in Dawnstar and in Riften. Owns a home there in fact."

"I never would have guessed! Well, maybe I would have. I knew she had good relations with the Jarl here, but I wouldn't have thought she had such strong connections in Riften of all places! That must have been her reason to send Cicero back ahead of her: didn't want to be seen with him while she did her usual business there in the city once they talked to Delvin. She didn't leave here with Cicero as far as I know though, so I wonder how she found him in the first place?"

"Yes, that is an interesting thought. I still question why she spared his pathetic life. I've told her that I'd accept him being here because she allowed it, but I wish she'd do something about all that dancing and laughing. It's driving _me _mad! Not to mention his bad jokes. At least he doesn't bother me too much when Madrale is here. He acts like a lost chick who has found its mother hen when she's around. I passed him in the hall a few minutes ago. He could have been heading to bed, but I doubt it."

* * *

The Listener rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand as she stifled a yawn. Tapping off the access ink on her pen, she placed it on her paper, pausing for a second to allow the ink to gather on the parchment before continuing her sentence. Recalling as many details as she could, she recorded the events of the last contract. She had decided that it would be a good idea to keep it all down on a written record. It was taking longer than she would have liked however, the fluttering of her heavy eyelids delaying her work. She heard the door creak. She looked up, but found that no one was there. Stifling yet another yawn, she went to dip her pen when she felt a presence behind her.

"Good evening, Cicero."

"Oh! And I so wanted to SUPRISE the dear Listener!" He groaned. He then swept around to the front of the desk, sitting on his knees as he propped his head up with an elbow on the table. She continued to write. "Now, it is just a thought but Cicero thinks that the dark elves in Windhelm are crazy! They would call _Cicero_ mad, but _them_? What about _them_? They are hated! _Despised_! It's already too cold there to be wandering about the streets all day, let alone _live _there SURROUNDED by those who want to KILLyou!" He let out a dramatic sigh. "But the Listener is a dark elf. Yes, and _you _are too clever to ever think about living in a place like that! Such MEAN people... Speaking of mean people, Cicero thinks that Nazir is too grouchy."

"Cicero." The jester paused in his tangent when he heard his name. He then looked into the Listener's eyes.

"Yes, Master?" He let out a muffled giggle.

"Why are you really here?"

"Why is Cicero here? Well, of course because you're the Listener! You spared Cicero's life, and Cicero is forever in your dept!"

"No, I meant why are you in my quarters." Understanding lit Cicero's face as he stood up, then sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Oh! You mean _that_. Of course that's what you meant." He crossed his arms and hmned, glancing around the room for a moment. "Well, Cicero came to say that he's very happy with your loyalty to Mother and the Dread Father. So many are hypocrites, saying that they serve him but acting completely different. But you, Mother knew you were not like the rest of them. Mother knew you'd be loyal to her love, to her favor... Would it be okay if Cicero asked a question?"

"Go ahead." She said as she started a new paragraph.

"Why did the Listener spare Cicero's life?" She paused her pen. "It would have been so easy. Cicero was defeated, and your orders were to kill me. You are the Listener. You could have done it without being killed by Lord Sithis' wrath. Mother would have spoken on your behalf." She sat back in her seat, setting her pen down to the side. She folded her lips in, pinning them down with her teeth in thought.

"To be honest... I don't know why I did. It didn't quite settle with me. I had Lucian Lachance's ghost with me if you recall. He told me it wasn't a good idea for me to take your life. That along with my gut feeling led me to sparing you." Cicero was silent for a moment. A smile then spread from ear to ear as he jumped up and put on a jig.

"THAT LUCIAN LACHANCE! That LOYAL servant of Sithis AND _our dearest _Mother! Cicero is also in his dept as well! But mostly to you, my Listener, for you were the one who spared the life of a pathetic fool! It must be because you are the Listener, and I am the Keeper! It must be! It must! I am FOREVER in your _servitude_." He turned and gave her a graceful bow. "Perhaps Mother really does love Cicero then, if she told your gut to spare me! Oh but of course not. If Mother truly loved poor Cicero then she would have said SOMETHING to him... Anything really, to show she's there." He opened the door, pausing a moment before stepping out. "Listener, what does her voice sound like? I have imagined it in so many different ways, but you... You've heard her with your own ears."

"It's as dark as the void, and mysterious as its mysteries. Cold, yet welcoming." He smiled a gentle smile, closing his eyes as he breathed in the response as though it were an autumn breeze.

"That sounds lovely. So lovely... Goodnight Sister." He said softly as he closed the door behind him. The Listener looked at the door for a moment longer before glancing back at the paper. Picking it up, she began reading it over.

"Oh, and by the way," he said poking his head into the room. "Do you by chance know when Cicero can leave the sanctuary again? Cicero has been getting rather bored here." The Listener lowered her paper so she could see his face.

"Go to sleep, Cicero. I'll let you know as soon as I know."

"Oh, yes! Of course... Goodnight then!" He said before closing the door. The dark elf shook her head as she went back to her document.

Cicero turned into the quarters Nazir shared with him when Babette and the Listener were present. "I suppose some sleep would be good," he said to himself. "Wait no, a bottle of cold mead would be even better!" Walking back out into the hall, he took the fastest route to the dining room. He recalled a few unopened bottles of mead sitting on the mantle. He hummed to himself softly, trying to put the description of the Night Mother's voice to the words he thought of in his head. "There they are." He said to himself, reaching up to grab one.

" It's like he's completely enthralled with her! In a way I don't mind because that means he's being entertained by someone else, but by the gods he is so annoying! I'm just waiting for Madrale to snap!"

Cicero's cheerful smile faded away. Holding the bottle of mead between his hands, he sneaked over to the corner of the stairs.

"I don't know, I find him rather entertaining at times. It can get so dull around here," Babette replied.

"You're not the one being pestered by the little devil." Nazir sneered.

"_Cicero doesn't exactly like you either,_" the jester muttered. Babette then sighed.

"I suppose you're right. Madrale doesn't seem to be bothered by him at least. Who knows, maybe she hooks up with him." Cicero attempted to hold back an erupting giggle.

"That's a joke, right? It's a pretty bad one at that. If she were to go to anyone around here for some _loving, _I'm pretty sure she'd come to me before she'd go to him. He could throw himself at her, but I don't think she'd be the least bit interested."

"You don't have to get so fired up, of course it was a joke. Though now I wonder..."

"Get that thought out of your head you little witch. I have high respect for her, I may even be a little more fond of her in comparison to other people, but that's all."

"All right, all right."

Cicero's face became narrowed. He looked at his distorted reflection on the mead bottle, thinking that if his mind were to be seen in a reflection that it wouldn't look much different. He then stood up, looking up in their direction before leaving the company of their conversations for the comfort of his bed. He sat at the table set up in his room, uncapping the bottle. "Mother, why didn't you kill those two as well?" He muttered. "Would be for the best. So unkind to poor Cicero! Behind his back, discussing such terrible things! Such terrible, personal things that are none of their business. What do they know? Well, maybe the vampire child isn't so bad." He took a gulp. He thought about the Listener who was in the room next door. Was she sleeping yet? All he would have to do is sneak one, two, THREE STEPS! AND- But NO! He couldn't! Not with what the other two had been saying, even if it was just a nasty little joke. To think they thought he thought those thoughts towards the great and mighty Listener! How crazy must they be? More than him! "But she does have lovely black hair that looks nice against her collar bones," he sighed. "Mother has good tastes." He went to take another sip of his mead when the door creaked open.

"Why, if it isn't Nazir! Hello my Brother!" Cicero said with a smirk.

"So you're still awake then?" He said

"Unless you are suggesting a man could drink in his sleep!" The jester said with a chuckle.

"Hnm, yes I suppose you're right. It's good thing you're awake actually. I need to you to replenish our meat supply. Get salted meat from one of the cities, or even a hunter. I don't particularly care, just as long as it's high quality. I'll have a list for you to take in the morning. Do you understand?" Cicero's lip pulled up as he watched the trembling liquid through the bottle's small hole.

"I said,_ do you understand_?" Nazir grew impatient. Cicero glanced up.

"And why should Cicero take orders from you?"

"Because I am currently the only speaker, making me second in command under Madrale."

"Listen to you, calling the Listener by her first name. So informal! As if you have known each other for years! I'm the Keeper, I take direct care of the Night Mother! Keeper is above the Speaker."

"Yes, and seeing that we have a Listener again there's no _need _for a Keeper any longer. Right now it is out of formalities and the delicacy of our situation that you still have that title, but some day soon you'll no longer have it. Don't you understand? You're not needed to attend to the Night Mother anymore. You've done your service to her, and for that I thank you, but it's time for you to return to your position as a regular member of this Family!" Cicero sat in silence, biting his lip. His eyes did enough talking for him. Picking up his mead again, he took another gulp.

"No."

"Fine. I'm done with you tonight, I'll be talking with Madrale about this. No more words between you and I, I'm going to bed."

"Cicero won't stop you." He said dully, swishing the mead around in the bottle as he heard the Redguard remove his turban and the rustle of blankets.

* * *

Madrale sat up in a sweat. Panting, she looked about the room, recalling her surroundings. After steadying her breath, she threw her legs over the side of the bed while putting on the top of her robe. She then padded out barefoot to the practicing ring below the bridge, basking in the torch light. Another bad dream. She had had many bad dreams before, but not like the ones she had been having for the past few weeks.

The cold of the stone floor tingled the soles of her feet. It felt good really. She began pacing the sanctuary, walking up and down its stairs until eventually ending up in the dining room, dishing through the slop left since dinner. Licking the ladle, she found that it was still warm though not as appetizing as it was earlier. Walking up to the mantle, she grabbed the last mead. "I could have sworn I left two up here." Madrale murmured to herself, sitting at the table and wondering what time it was. It was still, too still for anyone to still be up. Letting out a an exasperated growl, she stretched her hands behind her as she cracked herself over the back of the chair.

Madrale reasoned with herself. She had just gotten back from the first contract since the burning of the old sanctuary, and while the first bit of the journey was easy they still had to travel back by foot. That alone took days. Of course she'd feel tired and spread over too many things at once! That's what it was like to be a true leader, wasn't it? She was then glad that she wasn't a Jarl. It was hard enough leading a small group of people, let alone sorting out things for a whole region and dealing with other Jarls over petty disputes. She smacked her lips together before taking another gulp. What would she do without the occasional mead? After becoming lost in thought, she looked up towards the Night Mother's coffin. If only she could get some solid answers.

Madrale got up, then approaching the coffin. It was closed now, as Cicero closed it every night. "Night Mother," she thought. "What do I do? I'm trying but I just don't know if I'm doing this right." No response. Of course. She let out a deep sigh with anxiety mixed into it. "I don't know if I can do this, Mother. I don't. It's just so much." "Mother," she said out loud. "Mother they call me savior. They call me the redeemer, the Mighty One. They swear to serve me to their death. But Mother-" She paused as she heard something shuffling. Startled, she began searching for the source. Looking down into the dining room, she saw Babette, who momentarily glanced up at her before leaving. How much had she heard? "She must think I'm as mad as Cicero." She laughed quietly to herself. She then laid her forehead against the cold iron door. "Oh Mother, sweet Mother. I think you might have been wrong in choosing me."

* * *

"Well, look who we have here! Hello there Madam Maven Black-Briar. What can I do for you this fine day?" The woman smirked as she approached the table Delvin Mallory sat at. She gingerly pulled back a chair, gracefully sitting in it.

"Oh Delvin. What an interesting man you are." She tsked as she shook her head, then resting her chin on her folded hands.

"Whatever could you mean?" He said with a light chuckle.

"Oh, don't play games with me. I know about your connection with the Dark Brotherhood." The man's face went blank. "Oh, bar tender! I'd like some mead. None of that Honningbrew stuff."

"Do you have some coin?" He shouted, a rather displeased look on his face at the sight of her.

"Why of course I do! When do I not?" She then turned her attention back onto the man in front of her. "Now Delvin, I need some... Information, if you will." He crossed his arms against his chest.

"I will do no such thing! Business is business, and I keep confidentiality."

"I see..." She then pulled out a large purse of gold. "Are you going to change your tune?"

"Of course you're trying to bribe me." He sneered. "I already told you no. Now if that's all you're here for, then you may go." Maven leaned in over the table.

"I could cause you and your guild a lot of trouble." She whispered. "It would be a shame if you were the cause of it." Delvin glared at her, and then looked at the purse.

"I see your point." The woman then sat back with a smile.

"Good, your judgment hasn't been clouded."

"Your mead, Madam." The bar tender said as he placed a bear bottle next to her arm.

"Why thank you Vekel. You always provide good services." The man then gave a short bow with a mumble of thanks with the exchange of coin before returning behind the bar. "Now Delvin, tell me. Where is their new sanctuary?"

"It's not in the Reach." He said plainly.

"That's not what I asked."

"Neither is it in the Rift or the Falkreath Hold."

"Well that last one is quite obvious," she said in an aggravated tone.

"Oh, well you never know. It would be smart, would it not? It would never be suspected!"

"Delvin, get to the point. I don't have all day."

"It's not in Haafingar either. Now that is all I will say. Have your own goons seek out the rest of the information you need. You've got plenty of them, it shouldn't take you too long." She let out a long breath.

"Fine then. I suppose that is enough information for today. Farewell, Delvin." She stood, taking her mead in one hand as she straightened her clothing out with the other. She began to walk away. "Have fun with that bit of gold. You could treat your friends of the shadows to a bit of my mead now that you can afford it. Tell them how you got the gold while you're at it."

* * *

**For those who own the PC version: I may have found the cure to your blues over not being able to marry Cicero. This MOD saved my heart from throbbing forever! skyrim . nexusmods mods/19834 ! Of course, I can't actually put the real link or even that it's a website on here because ffnet doesn't like links. I'm sure you can play around and get it to work. **

**Again, thank you to those who have been following! I hope you'll continue enjoying my story! An extreme token of graditude to those who have commented! I don't know how I'd survive without you guys! :D**

**~Liliedove**


	4. Confrontation

**A/N: Thank you for reaching this far! I'm psyched for the further developement of this story! ****I believe I have unsigned (non-member/lazy-member) reviews turned back on for those who are interested (couldn't find it for a while).  
**I do admit that after the 13.5k words written last chapter that was out a week ago I feel for Cicero who waited and tried to get the Night Mother to speak to him, but she never would...

**-Liliedove**

* * *

One by one each person rolled out of bed and made their way to the dining room to eat the next morning. Some had more pleasant wake up calls than others. For instance, waking to someone jumping up and down over you as they straddled the bed by each side of the frame is not the best way to get one in the right mood to start off the day. Nor is it refreshing to wake from a thud and an angry voice from the other side of one of your walls the morning after returning from a journey and having a hard time sleeping during the night. Babette was simply glad she woke before everyone else, or she too would have been cranky. Perhaps the crankiest. Soon enough they were able to settle their differences and gather together without any more outbreaks. Nazir for one was pleasantly surprised by what the Listener announced once they were all seated at the table.

"I have spoken to the Night Mother recently. We have new contracts." Everyone at the table perked their heads up at the news.

"How many do you have?" Nazir said eagerly. She blew on the reheated stew.

"I was given two. One of our clients is in the Reach outside of the city. I'm told the other client will be found a little ways from the Riften stables. _You _my dear friend will be accompanying Babette to Riften for the other contract." She looked quite pleased with herself. The light in Nazir's eyes, however, faded at the mention of Babette.

"Still doing the paired up thing, huh?" His distaste for it wasn't camouflaged. The Listener let out a sigh as she put her spoon down.

"Do you still have a problem with it? Our situation is the same as it was for the last contract."

"Madrale, with all due respect I am a Redguard, and not like those who were born in Skyrim. In my youth I had to earn my rite of passage in the wastelands of the Alik'r desert. Only the strongest survive to tell the tale. Have faith in my blade." He stared at her intently. Cicero and Babette continued to eat, flickering their eyes from the speakers to the food in their bowls.

"It's not your blade I lack faith in Nazir, and you know that. It's just too risky right now." Babette cleared her throat after swigging down a glass of water to chase the rubbery meat.

"I usually take sides with you Madrale, really I do agree that caution should be taken at this point," she began. "But I do think you should give Nazir the sport of going alone this time. It's just Riften after all. They support the rebellion, which means there shouldn't be any legionnaires around. You know what they say: your enemy's enemy is your friend. Besides, I'm still exhausted. We only got back last night!" The Listener thought for a moment as she continued to spoon the slop into her mouth.

"Alright I'll allow you to just this once, and only because it's you. Until we have trustworthy initiates, the utter most caution must be taken to insure our survival. We can't afford to lose anyone here."

"How touching." Nazir said with a chuckle. "Rest assured, I'll come home unscathed. Now, about the other contract. I'm assuming you will be taking that up yourself?" She nodded her head.

"If you would, I'll take that supply list you mentioned off your hands." She replied. After shoving about five spoons worth into his mouth, the jester leaned in across the table to look the dark elf in the face.

"And whught will Ciffero be do'mph then?" He said between chews, his cheeks nearly bursting at the corners of his lips.

"Please _swallow_ your food before talking. It's hard enough to understand you with your mouth empty." Nazir said irritatedly. Cicero put a finger up as he tried swallowing the whole conglomerated lump at once. Then a second finger. He then grabbed a glass to help wash it down, letting out a content breath once it flushed. He then turned his pleading eyes back onto the Listener.

"Cicero was asking what you have for him to do. PLEASE say he doesn't have to stay all alone in the sanctuary with the un-child! It was bad enough being trapped here for so many WEEKS, but to be alone with HER?"

"You know, I could take that as an offense." Babette said dully with a glare.

"Well how would YOU feel if YOU were Cicero? The thought of having his blood drained in the night!" He dramatically put a hand to the side of his neck as he made a horrified expression. He then dropped the act. "Of course, I suppose you could do it any night really, since the Listener is in the other room and Nazir would do nothing to SAVE poor Cicero!"

"Oh, you have no need to worry. The last thing I need is _your _blood circulating through my system! Who knows, maybe I'd start talking to my alchemy reagents?" Before Cicero could give any retort, the Listener interrupted. Cicero's face narrowed as Babette stuck her tongue out at him.

"I was just about to get to you Cicero. Nazir spoke to me this morning about sending you to replenish our food stock. I think it's a good idea. You will be journeying to Markarth to buy meat from the market there." A look of betrayal fell over Cicero's face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Listener, siding with Nazir over the matter? It was as though she were agreeing what all he said! What if... What if she meant to take his position away as Keeper, just as Nazir said she would? The Listener turned to look at Nazir. "I'm afraid you won't be able to enjoy the bulk of having the sanctuary to yourself Nazir, but since we will be completing a contract as well as picking up the supplies you will probably return at least a few days before we will. Enjoy the break." The Redguard laughed as he clapped her shoulder with a hand.

"I sure will! Friend indeed! Some peace and quiet and... Well, nothing related to him is just what I think the doctor would have prescribed for me." Cicero's look of disbelief flickered into one of confusion.

"Did you say _we_?" He tilted his head to the side.

"Yes, I will be accompanying you." A smile formed from ear to ear on the jester's face as he jumped out of his seat to dance, his chair and the empty one beside it falling back on the floor. Nazir rolled his eyes with a face that said he wasn't the least bit surprised.

"The Listener and the Keeper! Once again, we are on the hunt!" He laughed merrily. Babette leaned against Nazir's arm and whispered into his ear.

"I see what you mean about the chick and and the hen. I don't suppose I could describe it better myself." The Listener frowned as she heard the two whispering back and forth to one another. She then felt two hands clasping her shoulders tightly. Cicero was bouncing from foot to foot, rarely taking a moment to breath between his giggles. Nazir smirked as he leaned back with his hands behind his head.

"Madrale, all I can say is good luck with that one. I can't say I envy taking a long journey with that bundle of energy bouncing along side you, flapping his gums the whole way."

"We all have our burdens to carry," she said under her breath.

* * *

Nazir belted the buckle of his canteen, almost ready to begin his long awaited vacation from the sanctuary. Cicero and the Listener had left a couple hours beforehand. He had felt the spirit that had been strangling him for weeks slip away as the echo of the jester's last hoot and click of the heels died after the sanctuary door slammed shut. How beautiful the moment was! He would never have admitted it out loud, but he was eternally grateful for the gift of solitude Babette gave him for this contract. Traveling the woods, killing bandits and whatever else might attack him on the road: this was exactly what he needed to cool his head. Had Madrale insisted Cicero go along with him on this, he would have down right refused. It was her strange fondness for the maniac that kept him alive, that was certain. Even if he was a good assassin, he wouldn't be the wiser if poison were to be slipped into his portion of food. He ate it at the mouthful, it would be too late by the time he tasted it. Perhaps he could simply put bitter herbs into his bowl. Just for the purpose of amusement. Perhaps he'd even gag on it? Yes, that was an idea he would have to save for later. He walked up the steps in the dining room, pausing at the top where Babette sat at her desk.

"Babette, are you sure you want to stay here alone? Of course, that's not an invitation to change your mind about coming. Not that you didn't know that already." She looked up at him with a faint smile on her face.

"_Oh yes_, a 300-year-old vampire is afraid of being_ home alone_. I'll be fine, it's not like someone is going to _barge_ in here." Nazir grinned.

"Well have fun with the peace and quiet around here, it's not likely to ever happen again since we're getting new recruits soon. If you get lonely you can always _talk _with the _Night Mother_. I'm sure she'd like it, since Cicero isn't around to do it."

"Careful what you say Nazir! You don't know what she might find offensive!" She said teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah. See you _two _when I get home." He smiled to himself as he strode towards the door, thrilled to be able to take in a breath of crisp, fresh air. He put his hand in the imprint on the door, activating it. As it slowly trudged open, he squinted his eyes when the sun's rays reflected off the snow and onto his face. Cave lighting: you forget how dim it is until you have to emerge from it. Breathing in deeply, he let out a joyful sigh as he took a step into the snow. The joy wasn't to last.

The next moment he found himself face down in it with a boot pressing down on his back.

"What the-" He felt the somebody latching their legs onto his sides as he saw a blade approach his neck from the corner of his eye. Swiftly, he switched their positions as he forced the same dagger to be pressed against the somebody's own neck. When he made eye contact with the person, he froze. "_You,_ do I know you?"

"I suppose I'll never be as good as you, Nazir. A young little girl like me _in over her head_! I suppose I will _never_ be skilled enough to best you." She let out a dramatized sigh. Nazir slowly stood up, looking at the figure still lying in the snow.

"Svenja?" The nord smiled as she batted her eyes.

"Oh come now Nazir, there's no need for you to look at me with such a silly face. Why, of course it's me, who else would I be? Though I suppose I do look... Older than I did when you last saw me."

"It has been nearly twenty years you know. If your hair wasn't the same I don't think I'd have ever recognized you." He gave her a hand.

"Should I take that as a compliment? Anyhow, you're the first person I've recognized walking out of this sanctuary. You haven't changed much, though I suppose you could account that to your Redguard blood. Would you care to show me inside?" Nazir hesitated for a moment, but then turned to the door which had shut already. It asked for the password.

"Innocence? Now that's an interesting one." She smirked, following in behind him. As they passed through the front hall, she nodded her head in agreement with what she saw. "I like this place. Much more... Roomy than the Falkreath Sanctuary."

"Yes it is." He watched as she felt the need to touch everything in the room. He pressured her along to the first room.

Babette looked up from her work when she heard the woman's voice. "I did think it was a bit early for Madrale and Cicero to be back already, though it would have explained the ruckus outside. Svenja, it's been a while. I didn't expect to see you again. At least, not in this life." The woman approached the girl.

"Hnm, what was your name again? Bettie was it?" She rubbed her chin in thought.

"It's_ Babette_."

"Oh right! Of course! I was quite young then you know, not much stuck in my memory. It has been a while, hasn't it? So is there anyone else alive or just you two? It was rather hard to distinguish which body belonged to who... Besides the fact that it has been so long. The memories of my youth are failing me. Who knows? Maybe all the members I knew died years ago."

"You've been to the old sanctuary?" Nazir said in surprise.

"Well of course I have! That's the first place I checked once I came back to Skyrim. I was quite distraught, don't you know. To see our home in such a state... What a pity, and I was so looking forward to sleeping in my old bed."

"About that..." Nazir said with suspicion. "Why are you in Skyrim? I thought you were reassigned to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary in Cyrodiil. We all thought you died years ago with everyone else. Why are you appearing to us just now?" She continued to walk around, exploring the front room. She paused.

"Now what is that _thing _sitting in the corner? Is that some kind of coffin?"

"It's the Night Mother," Babette said crossing her arms. "Watch that you don't say anything disrespectful or you'll have some problems coming your way in the future." The nord approached it, laying a hand on one of the doors.

"So _this _is the Night Mother? To think that she would be _here_ of all places." She purred. "Why not take a peek then? I'm _curious_ to see how time has been treating her." Her eyes widened when a strong hand came against the crack she had pulled open, slamming it closed again.

"It's closed for a reason." She gave Nazir a confused look. "Don't play innocent with me you foul sprite, I won't fall for it! You may look older, but you're still that 15-year-old little brat who doesn't know how to keep her hands to herself it seems. If anything were to happen to the Night Mother while he's gone, the Keeper will throw a fit; and_ trust me_, you wouldn't like to see _him_ of all people _throwing a fit_." She gave him a raised eyebrow before turning back about the room as if nothing had happened.

"Yes, I was relocated to Cheydinhal just as you said. It was so nice! Everyone was so welcoming to me! It's sad what happened. I was away on a contract when it all came down you see. A shame really. I was there for three years! I will miss my family there. Anyway, I finished all the contracts I could think of that were left, and then I decided to go home. Of course, there wasn't any home to go home to... What happened? Don't tell me a new recruit gave away the location_ and t_he password to a lover again. A shame what happened last time, they were such a darling little couple."

"I'm sure you heard about the Emperor's assassination last month. If you haven't, you've been living under a rock for far too long." He said after taking a seat on one of the stone steps to the Night Mother's coffin.

"Who hasn't? ...I'm guessing someone _got caught_ then? Either followed back to the sanctuary, or tortured for the location?"

"We were _betrayed_, by Astrid. She didn't like how the Night Mother was interfering with her ways, and became jealous of the Listener." She became stiff with surprise, then looking at him.

"The... Listener?"

"Oh? Didn't you know?"

"But you said there was still a Keeper... By the gods, the Night Mother waited long enough that it's shocking that she ever chose a new one! The last one died almost fourteen years ago now!"

"Yes, well we were all surprised and a bit skeptical at first, but it seems she's the real deal. If it weren't for her, the brotherhood would have had no chances of survival." The nord stared at him, a hard look in her eyes.

"Is that so...? That's quite a mouthful to say about a person. I'll have to see it to believe it."

* * *

"The little bug flies in the SKY- up, UP! Up so HIGH! But then _swoops_ down a _preying_ BIRD, snap! SNAP! Its _death_ is HEARD! And then there comes a _hunting_ MAN, who COOKS the bird upon his PAN! But then from in the _deep_ dark HOLE, comes a large and_ hairy_ TROLL! Who EATS him up! EATS him whole! Then time walks in and KILLS the _troll!_ Then CICERO the brave strolls IN, and harvests the FAT for his _dear_ KIN!"

Madrale and Cicero had been on the road for days. It had been mostly peaceful, with an occasional attack by bandits. Most recently they had stopped for the night under the stars, simply picking the most comfortable spot to lay on the lumpy ground. She had woke in the middle of the night to the sound of Cicero giving a squeal of surprise, then apparently cooing over a centipede until he crushed it between his fingers with a laugh. At least, she thought it was a centipede by how he talked to it. She didn't roll over to check, in the case that he might try to strike up a conversation with her at that late hour. When she woke at daylight, he had already been awake, and was in fact nearly naked as he looked up from wrapping a slab of fat in linen.

"But Cicero didn't want his clothes to smell like troll sweat! Would you like Cicero hanging all over you today, smelling like that? For WEEKS or MONTHS perhaps? Cicero is thinking, you see Listener? Not all mad, not all." She shook her head at the memory. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful for his consideration, or even more perplexed over the fact that he was openly planning on invading her personal space.

Cicero continued to hum to himself, cheerfully holding the straps of his pack. "_The Listener and the Keeper, the Listener and the Keeper_!" He whispered to himself, grinning stupidly. The Listener looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked. No wonder so many people thought he was insane. She questioned how she didn't quite think he was, and therefore questioned her own sanity. The thought of "Maybe he is just misunderstood" only pushed her to thinking she was excusing her own mad tendencies, but they did serve the god of chaos after all.

"What is the Listener thinking?" He was practically hanging on her shoulder. Perhaps he would make a good parrot. Why not find a spell to turn him into one? Ah, but then he could fly.

"Thoughts,' she replied. Cicero whined as he slouched his shoulders.

"Oh! You're being no fun!" He hmphed.

"Thoughts are to be kept to one's self. You never know what might happen if you let one loose." Cicero gave a thoughtful look as he put a finger on his chin.

"Hnm... Cicero can see what you mean, BUT Cicero is the Listener's humble and loyal servant! Certainly you can spare him a simple thought for his troubles? Just one tiny ency little thought?" He used his fingers to indicate the size. She stayed silent, ignoring him. "Tell me Listener, what did you do before... Before you became an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood? Hnm? Cicero would like to know! Were you bad? Were you good? Were you quiet? Were you LOUD? Were you flirty? Were you _SASSY_? Were you living? Were you DEAD? Did you have a dog? Did you have an undead RAT? Did you eat stew, or did you prefer pie? Answer me, ANSWER me! Cicero would really like to know!" His face was wide and red with exhilaration. The Listener scowled, causing Cicero to back off a few feet. "Cicero does want to know... Cicero has spent so much time searching, WAITING for the Listener, that he'd like to know more about her! You can't blame Cicero for that."

She gave him another cold glance, refusing to speak. He then sighed, shaking his head. "All you dark elves... Always so aloof. Your kind has been cranky and lonely inside ever since Azura cursed you with your SCARY red eyes and _deathly_ grey skin. SO lonely, and you don't even _know it_." Tsking, he crossed his arms against his chest as he closed his eyes, slowly opening one to peek at her.

"My past is mine to give or keep, don't pressure me to give it away so simply." She said stiffly. She paused for a moment, and then continued. "Fine, I'll tell you a little if it'll make you happy. I left Morrowind at a young age, thirteen I think. I did some reckless things that could have cost my life many times. I suppose those who have lived through their own stupidity long enough are meant to live, if they haven't been taken by the gods already." Cicero's eyes were wide with interest. He took a step closer to her, walking in sync with her movements. Her gaze flickered onto him a few times, perhaps questioning whether or not to take a step or two away from him. After he realized she would say no more, a smile crept along Cicero's face.

"Oh JOY and DANCING and MERRIMENT! The Listener spoke to Cicero! She thinks she's cold, but Cicero can melt even the coldest of hearts! _For he is the Fool of Hearts!_" He laughed as he put an arm around her neck, pulling her down be the weight. "Now tell me sister, where again is our _client_?" The Listener pulled his arm off.

"She's waiting outside of Karthwasten."

"OH? Well that's not a far journey from where we are now! We will be there in no time! Oh the kill, THE KILL! Cicero can't wait until the kill! Cicero hopes you will give him the chance to kill the target, that is. It has been so very long since Cicero last went on an assignment you know."

And so she gave him his heart's desire, for a few hours later Madrale entered the gates of Markarth alone. She had allowed Cicero to take on the contract without her after their initial meeting with the client. She wanted to get into the city sooner, but to allow Cicero to approach the client alone? Who knows what could have erupted? That man was a bag of surprises. Either he would be cheerful and keep his thoughts to himself if anything were amiss, or he could turn things haywire over the smallest gesture misinterpreted. Intelligent and very skilled, yet still mad. Madness is an illness not to be trusted, no matter how loyal and sincere the actual person may be. He seemed rather let down that he couldn't see 'the Listener in action' as he had been wishing to see ever since he first met her apparently. Something in her eyes he said, her becoming the Listener only increasing his curiosity. However, she had business to take care of. Business he didn't need to know about, and a business she was afraid she was going to miss the appointed time for. He did like the idea of having a kill to himself though, thankfully, so it didn't take terribly long to separate from him.

She approached the inn, leaning against it as she waited. It was funny how she could go just about anywhere in her robes, stained deep red with the hand so widely symbolizing the brotherhood. People really were ignorant. Or, perhaps they were simply trying to stay out of trouble. Only an idiot would point out a member of the Dark Brotherhood to a crowd without expecting to pay the consequences for the action soon after. She straightened her stance as she saw the courtier walking in her direction. They met eyes, but he kept walking past her. She watched, hoping he would notice his mistake. When she realized he wouldn't turn her way again anytime soon, she had to suppress a sense of panic that came rushing into her system. That was, until she identified another person approaching. The woman stopped before her, bowing her head in respect.

"My Thane, I received your letter."

"Iona, What are you doing here? I thought you were going to send a letter." The Madrale rasped.

"My news is too important to relay through so many hands. When you sent me that letter, I decided it was better to meet you here myself to tell you the news." Madrale glanced around, then nodding her head towards the inn.

"We'll speak inside. I'll rent a room for the night so we can be somewhere private." Iona nodded her head, following in behind the dark elf.

As Madrale closed the door behind them once they were in the rented room, she turned and looked hard at the housecarl. "What happened?" Iona remained standing, offering her Thane the seat at the desk. Madrale refused, and also remained standing.

"You have been receiving threats, my Liege," she said at last. Madrale frowned. "The first few I took lightly. First I received a letter for you by the courtier. I figured it held little weight so I burned it. A week later I was doing rounds in the market when Brand-Shei gave me another threat letter someone left for you. I knew then that the one who sent it must be watching you, if they know that you have a more personal relationship with him over the other merchants in the city. A week after that I found this nailed to the front door." She pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from her armor, handing it over. Madrale opened it, frowning deeper as she read it's message.

"I know who you are." She read aloud. She felt a sort of fear jump up in her abdomen.

"I know it could mean so many things. Perhaps this is all just a horrid joke. Everyone knows the good you have brought to Riften over the last seven years." She took a step closer, using a low voice. "I can't help but fear for the worst. If the people were to find out about what you had done... What you had been involved with in the past..."

"You think they're threatening me over that? But that all happened over a decade ago! Long before I ever became involved in Riften!"

"That doesn't matter. The people are hypocrites. They may be morally corrupt, but anything involving killing could make them turn their backs on you. You would lose all of your honor, your respect! The people are hardhearted, I don't think you'll be able to earn it back. At least, not like what you have now. This threat cannot be simply ignored." Madrale sighed, sitting down on the bed deep in thought.

"You're right, it shouldn't be ignored. If this... Persecutor tries to arrange a meeting, then so be it. Let me know as soon as you hear. Send your message to Dawnstar to update me, I make my rounds there most weeks now."

"Alright... I will do that. I will try to figure out things on my own if I can. I hope for the best. Perhaps this is just a pathetic fool's way of trying to get your attention?"

"I hope that's all it is."

* * *

It wasn't until the middle of the night before Cicero entered the gates. He noted the guards snickering behind his back, adding that the strangest things happen in the early hours. Ah, did he have a story to tell the Listener! He couldn't wait to see the look on her face! He had wondered how long it would take him to find the inn, but it was conveniently only a few steps into the city. He also saw the meat cart, some pieces still laying out. It wouldn't be so hard to _sneak _some... Oh, but the Listener insisted on _buying _the meat. Why, Cicero would never quite understand. Once in the inn, he approached the counter.

"You're up quite late I must say. Aren't you the least bit sleepy?" The gruff looking man behind the counter looked at him with mild amusement.

"I'm an inn keeper, it's what I do. Besides, if I didn't stay up my wife would yell at me for sure. Such an ear full," he said turning a finger in his ear.

"Oh, a troubled marriage? How sad, how sad... But Cicero isn't here for that. Would you mind telling Cicero where one of your customers is? She is a dark elf. Grey skin, red eyes (though Cicero thinks they look rather pink actually), About THIS tall-"

"I know what a dark elf looks like you idiot, and I don't just throw information around about my customers to anyone who asks. It's something called confidentiality, have you ever heard of it?" Cicero put his hands down.

"Oh Cicero has heard of it alright, yes he HAS! But you see, Cicero was traveling with this dark elf. A companion, if you will. Cicero had other business to attend to first so we split up earlier today. Cicero finished with what he needed to do, and so now Cicero has come to bring us back together! Do you really think a jester such as myself could cause any trouble? Let Cicero SHOW YOU how JOYFUL he can BE!" He then proceeded to hoop and holler as he danced around in a circle. The inn keeper then gave a harsh shh, telling him to settle down.

"She's in the room to your left. It shouldn't be hard to find." He said, then muttering to himself. "Though I suppose it might be difficult for someone like you."

"Why thank you, kind sir." Cicero said bowing, his hat in hand. He then pulled out a coin and laid it on the counter with a giggle. " A septim, for your troubles." He readjusted the hat on his head as the inn keeper watched him go with disbelief written across his face.

Cicero slowly closed the door behind him. A single candle was still lit on the desk, casting little light on the figure laying on the stone bed. Could someone really sleep on that? He could understand the un-child, but for anyone else that would be crazy! He sneaked next to the bed, cautiously laying behind her with a hand propping his head up. He smiled mischievously.

"That's rather invasive, crawling into a woman's bed at such an hour as she sleeps. Even for a murderer such as yourself." Cicero jumped.

"So you are awake, Listener! Cicero was only hoping to scare you! Just a little bit! I wanted to see your face. That will just have to wait for another day then." He laughed quietly as he stood up, then leaning against the door post instead. The Listener sat up, staring at him.

"I knew you were here from the moment you arrived. You seem to leave quite an impression everywhere you go." The room was then quiet for a moment as Cicero simply stared at her. He began shifting his wait, his smile slipping into an impatient pursing of the lips.

"WELL? Are you going to ask how the _contract_ went or NOT? _Hnm_? How many people were KILLED in the PROCESS? Or if I BOTCHED it up? Hee-hee, as if Cicero could botch up a contract! No, Cicero was BORN a perfect, silent, _deadly_ assassin!"

"How did the contract go?" She said in a clear voice. Apparently she was never asleep. Must have found the stone bed just as absurd as Cicero had.

"It was WONDERFUL! Oh, the feeling! That wonderful FEELING Cicero has missed so much! No, it is not the same as killing any old ruffian who gets in the way! Here's the payment. I received the bonus as well; had to make it look like the husband killed the woman over his infatuation for a new one everyone in town had been talking about it seems. What they don't know is that it was the _new _woman herself who wanted the both of them in trouble! It seems she was the man's sister. She never forgave him for leaving their family to starve. What bitterness, what bitterness indeed! Oh yes, Cicero could sense it. She reeked of it! Didn't you notice?" He said it all rather seriously, though not entirely void of his joking self. The listener opened the drawstrings of the coin purse, estimating the amount.

"You made yourself quite a profit, Cicero." She said rather impressed as she handed it back to him. "I'll deduct the Family's keep once we return to the sanctuary." He had a smug look on his face.

"It seems Cicero is just as good has he has always been! Well, had to kill a few extra souls... Oh well, they were Legionnaires anyhow." She frowned.

"Legionnaires? That far south in the Reach?" Cicero in tern frowned himself.

"Is that so strange?"

"Yes, it is actually. I am aware that the Jarl here supports the Empire, but to have the soldiers come this far into the Reach seems rather concerning... Especially in such a remote place as your victim lived. Did you do anything to provoke them?" He rubbed his chin.

"Cicero doesn't think so... But they seemed to be everywhere. Cicero met more near the place he needed to meet up with the client again. Strange events... But no matter, they're all dead! No need to worry, my Listener."

"You might be right. Best not to worry about it at this moment anyhow. We'll rest up tonight as much as we can, and then we'll go about buying our food supplies. I rented a horse we can take most of the way back." Cicero looked at the single stone bed in the room again.

"Can we rest? Cicero thinks that's impossible. It seems the Listener wasn't sleeping when Cicero came in! Unless you stayed up waiting for Cicero..." he said suspiciously. The listener let out a small laugh.

"No, I don't think it's quite possible to sleep on these beds. It would be easier to sleep standing up."

"Oh, sounds like a fun idea! We can see who falls asleep first! And then, then! Well, no maybe not. Perhaps one of us won't be able to fall asleep and then we will be bored all night! Perhaps Cicero and the Listener could go out and get a nice cold drink? The inn keeper is still awake." He winked. More seemingly flirtatious gestures. As they walked out to the hall, she wondered if he realized what he was doing. She assumed she must have been over thinking it, as she always did with any man. Cicero was a madman with mad tendencies after all. What harm was there in humoring him?

* * *

It was late when Nazir made his way down to the lower level of Riften. He had been within the city walls since mid afternoon, but of course the most traditional time of day to kill a man is at night when he is alone in his home. Perhaps he was settling down for the night over a bottle of ale and a homemade meat pie, or slowly drifting off into a peaceful night sleep where he would dream of riches beyond his heart's desire. Most never suspect that the next day would never come for them. The client for the contract was one of the strange types. By how he was dressed he was surprised he could pay so well, but this was Riften after all. Chances were that he stole a good amount of that money if not all of it. Everyone has to find some way to make a living even if it's not an honorable one, and in Skyrim an honorable job that makes a good bit of gold isn't something easy to find.

"This fellow knows what he's up against with so many thieves around." He murmured, observing the heavily bolted lock on the door. He withdrew a lockpick from his pocket, grinning. "But he doesn't know who he's up against tonight." Slowly with an ear to the lock he felt the bolts, gently pressuring them until each on clicked. An easy task for a man of his caliber and high precision. He turned the handle as quietly as possible, now crouching low to the ground. A thrill ran through his spine; it had been so long since his last assigned kill! The room was dully lit by the dying fire and a few stubbed candles. Before him was a table still covered with plates of food, as well as a few shelves backed against the walls. This man wasn't over estimating the value of his home when he decided to buy that lock.

He tiptoed over to the other side of the pantry shelves, which separated the sleeping area from the rest of the room. He saw the figure sleeping soundly, as he should at this hour. Scimitar, or dagger? The scimitar was a part of his identity, but perhaps it was a bit too... messy. He drew the dagger from his side, cautiously stepping on the loose boards. One misplacement of weight, and his cover would be blown by a piercing squeak beneath him sure to wake the man. His shadow hovered over the man's face. Even if he did wake by some ill-fated gesture of the gods, there was no one around who could hear him scream. No one at least, who would actually care to help him. The deed was done quickly. He stood straight as the man began choking on his own blood, his eyes now open and looking around frantically like a beast. His beady eyes analyzed Nazir, staring up as his dark face with anxiety.

"Don't worry, death is only temporary. You go to serve the Dread Father this very night." If the man could, he probably would have let out a whimper. Nazir's comment only confirmed his fears. After another moment of suffering, the light dimmed in his eyes. "Looks like my job her is done." He sighed, almost turning to leave when he froze from the waist up. How did he miss something so obvious? Something so obnoxious and loud?

"Well done. I liked that bit at the end. Do you tell all of your victims that before you they die?" It was a woman's voice. Slowly, he turned himself around with a stern look on his face. Two men dressed in steal plate armor stood behind her. She herself, a woman clad in expensive clothing, sat at the table with an apple in her hand. A smile spread across her face as they made eye contact. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here?"

"Yeah, I suppose I am. Who are you exactly?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Who am I? Come now, you must be joking!"

"I'm afraid not." Her smile faltered when she realized he was telling the truth.

"Well I suppose you don't learn much about politics in that little hole you slit-throats call home. I am Maven Black-Briar."

"Oh, I see. I have heard about you. You're the one in cahoots with the Thieves Guild around here. I suppose those two brutes are members." She stood.

"I guess you're not as ignorant as I thought you were. Though no, they're not. These are some of my personally hired mercenaries... I was hoping that I would run into the dark elf tonight, but I suppose you'll have to do." He stiffened.

"The dark elf you say?"

"It seems we've been receiving a regular visitor down in the Ratway... As you yourself mentioned, I have strong connections with the guild. I have eyes and ears everywhere, and not just in Riften. I was curious about that one, wanted to know her story... Ah but I have you now don't I. I suppose I'll just have to see her on another occasion."

"One doesn't just get to request seeing a particular member of the Family."

"The... Family? Now isn't that _cute_. I thought a den full of smelly thieves was a crazy enough idea, but a family of murderers? Now that is funny. But no, it seems requests of any kind go unheard by your _Family. _I'm quite discontent with your services, for it seems that my requests always go unheard by the Night Mother. It seems this time she decided to listen...Yes, that's right: I set up this contract."

Nazir tsked. He knew the client seemed funny. If only he listened to his conscience. "Alright, you've got my attention. Now what is it that you want?"

"That's good, a man who goes straight to the point. I like that. You ask what I want, and this is what I demand: my contracts must be listened to from now on, and I want to meet your leader. I don't have to meet them today, but it must be done."

"We take contracts the Night Mother gives to us. The Listener on the other hand, I cannot guarantee a meeting with. What will you do? Threaten to kill me? As if the Listener would care about the loss of one lowly member of the brotherhood when I can so easily be replaced." She boldly approached him, blazing her gaze into the void of his eyes.

"I suppose the life of a common murderer isn't to be highly valued by someone in direct contact with the Night Mother. Though then again I have my doubts about you. Either way, I'm sure your dear _Listener_ would like to keep your organization's movements within the Rift. I may not be able to point fingers as to when your kind come strolling in to my territory without having fingers pointing right back at me, but here is a dead body. A dead body, as well as a man who still has the items used in this particular Black Sacrament still in his shabby little home."

"You would betray one of your own men?" She strode away.

"Oh, don't sound as if you couldn't swallow the idea of it. Your kind has a history of betrayal, and that is something you cannot argue against. I do what I need to do to get what I want, no matter how dire the consequences are on others. I have power and authority, greater than the Jarl herself. Now tell me, _noble _Redguard. What will it be?'

"It will be done." He said bitterly with a snarl.

"I'm glad to hear it! If your Mother's tongue gets knotted so that she doesn't speak to you again, I'll find a way to send you the message traditionally." Nazir snickered as he walked towards the door. Turning the handle, he looked back at them for a moment.

"You are a powerful one, I can't deny that Madam Black-Briar. However, I wouldn't underestimate the Dark Brotherhood. It could cause some trouble in your future." She frowned.

"Is that a threat?" Nazir smiled as he closed the door.


	5. Caution

**A/N: **Hello all! My updates for the next few weeks will be slower than usual since I'm now in Africa! I will in fact update though. (As you've seen from my posting now: I've been here for a week now.)  
Thank you again for following along!  
**Italy**: Thank you for commenting! And the compliments. :) I'm glad you're enjoying it!**  
**

* * *

The sanctuary was quiet in the absence of three fourths of the Family. Well, three fifths now. That slight change made it still not as quiet as Babette would have liked it: two could be a crowd when Svenja was one of them. It wasn't so much that she was particularly loud, because she wasn't exactly a loud person. It was her personality that was loud. Constantly having to look over your shoulder to make sure things weren't given an unwelcome touch was not what she had in mind when she was expecting to have some seclusion. All in all, she was still able to obtain some time to focus completely on her studies.

The rumble from the sanctuary door made the small specks of pebble around her feet jump up and down. It could be Madrale and Cicero, back from Markarth. She was surprised when she saw Nazir walk into the room. She stilled her pestle."Well, that was quick."

"You think so?" He passed her without a single glace. Babette frowned. Well, that was rude. He hadn't seen her in almost a week. She heard the ladle clank against the sides of the pot over the cooking fire."Hey Babette, how long has this been in here?"

"I don't know, maybe a few days?" She scribbled down a note after lightly smelling the fumes rising from a vile.

He gagged, followed by making a few disgusted sounds."I'm going to toss this, it smells worse than it usually does."

"Alright, if you want us to starve. We don't have much left to make more." She sighed. They were seriously low on food supplies. Some of the meat hadn't been properly salted or frozen, and had begun to decay into something unfit for anyone to eat.

Nazir walked over to the bottom of the stairs. "What? Didn't Madrale and Cicero get back already with the new food stock?"

"No, they haven't."

Nazir let out an agitated groan. "You've got to be kidding me! How could they still not be back? I've been to and from Riften already!"

"She's got Cicero with her, that's got to complicate things."

"Cicero may be a nutcase, but he wouldn't slow down their movements. I knew going in pairs was more harm than good! Who knows what happened to them? They must have been caught, that stupid Cicero laughing too loud at the wrong moment over something ridiculous!" Babette scooted her chair back, giving Nazir a dull stare. He stopped pacing, then giving her a look. "WHAT? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You seem to have had your feathers ruffled. Relax, I'm sure they're fine. They're in the Reach, remember? They have to watch out for the Foresworn, besides completing a contract _and _purchasing and transporting the food stock back to Dawnstar with discretion."

Nazir growled under his breath before pacing to the table and back. He then paused. "Where's Svenja?"

"Not here, she left a day or so ago. Not sure where to, said she'd be back though."

"We'll be lucky if she doesn't come back. I swear, she'll only bring us trouble." He stroked his beard.

"I can't say I disagree with you there. I've never been particularly fond of her. Over the past few days, all of my past memories of her I had long forgotten came back to haunt me. Why don't we just not let her in again?"

Nazir shook his head, sighing. "No, she already knows the password. Besides, if we shut her out we may be disobeying the second tenet. I don't know, it's been so long since we last followed the tenets that I'm having a hard time remembering. It was during my first few years here that Astrid decided to annul them. I believe the only one with the authority to actually get rid of her without facing Sithis' wrath is the Listener."

"Maybe Madrale will get rid of her once she sees her true colors, I doubt it'll take long."

Nazir snickered. "You're talking about the one who let Cicero stay. We may know her faults, but she does not. She's one to overlook people's bad points for what little potential she can salvage. If Svenja treads lightly around her, she may find a permanent home here."

"I hope you're wrong, but I can see your point. Svenja might have enough good points in her to win Madrale's favor. Speaking of Cicero, I think I saw Svenja over by the Night Mother one of the days she was here. I didn't detect any changes made, but I can't help but wonder if anything is amiss over there. I'm not quite sure how to keep after the Night Mother though, so I don't know how to figure that out."

Nazir looked down with his hands on his hips. "That can't be good. Let's just hope she didn't cause anything to make him upset. I don't want to deal with his attitude too. Just one of them is enough trouble to deal with!"

"If she has messed with the night mother, Cicero will only be the wake of the storm to come."

* * *

Rain poured down the roof of the small shelter, causing the shallow ditches from past rains to overflow with muddy water. Cicero shifted from foot to foot, adjusting the straps on his shoulders from time to time. Meat was heavy, and the extra troll fat he carved two days before only added to the load. It would be a waste to drop it though, and he didn't dare suggest the Listener carry it. It was a gift for her of course, but how could a thing be a gift if it was burdensome? He moaned in self-inflicted agony. He was eager for this journey to end.

"Listener, why don't we get on with it? No need to waste the daylight under here! Even if it is overcast."

The Listener continued to gaze out on the horizon. The rain dulled her senses, and while the Foresworn camps were no where near their proximity, she had another foe to worry about: Imperials. This road eventually led to Solitude, which made it a road more frequently used by the Imperial Legion. They usually traveled in small platoons, and normally wouldn't be hard to get around, but with the recent clash Cicero had with them she couldn't help but have a bad feeling about it. A feeling that told her they were searching for something in particular.

"It's alright, Cicero is used to silence. The maddening, everlasting silence..."

The Listener returned to reality, looking over at him. "What?"

"So you were ignoring poor Cicero! Oh, Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!' He shook his head. "Cicero was thinking that we should start moving again. It'll be night before we know it, and these bags are heavy. Best get back to the sanctuary before all the food runs out, no?"

She looked back towards the road past the tree line. "I don't like traveling in damp clothing. We'll wait until the rain slows down." It was better to take precautions than risk being attacked by Imperials, or worse: followed.

Cicero let out another whine before slumping to the ground. "Cicero thought the Listener said we were taking horses back to the sanctuary! Why are we going by foot?"

"They never showed up, remember? That's why we stood by that post for so long, that was our meeting point. Who knows what happened." She glanced down as he sighed. Gradually he looked up at her, grinning.

"Haven't you ever wanted to dance in the rain?"

"What?"

The joker jumped to his feet, leaving the many bags of meats, fruits, and cheeses on the ground."Cicero has always thought it would be fun to dance in the rain!" He left the shabby shelter, dashing into the pelting rain. He began a jig, turning in circles as he threw his legs into the air in a coordinated manner. Madrale laughed as he ended with a deep bow, holding out his dripping hat to her. He looked up, grinning, his hair plastered around his face. He then stood straight, offering her his other hand.

Madrale looked down, taking a moment before understanding his offer. She put her hands up, shaking her head. "No," she said sheepishly. "Not in the rain."

Cicero's face lit. "Oh, but the Listener would dance otherwise? The Listener must have been a dancer as a little merling gal!" He cackled and clicked his heels together. "But she says she won't dance in the rain... What a grumpy, frumpy cat, that you are!" As the slightest dimple appeared on her face, a mischievous look splashed across Cicero's. He threw his hat behind him as he stepped forward, taking one of her hands in his as he grabbed her waist with his other arm. She gasped as he spun her out into the rain. He smiled even more when she glared at him with her mouth left ajar, their noses inches apart. "It's time you embraced the rain, my queen." Cackling, he led the chaotic dance, laughing when she slipped a little, then grabbing onto his suit for support. He pulled her back up.

"I thought Mother was your queen?"

"No, Mother is Cicero's Goddess. The Listener is his queen, for she has been ordained to rule by Mother."

"Really, you do me too much honor." The expression on Madrale's face softened. There was no point to sulk about getting wet, she was still going to be soaked either way now. She shouldn't have let him come so close, should have known he would have tried something like this the moment he stepped into the rain. At least the food was still dry.

Cicero spun Madrale in a circle, staring into her deep, crimson eyes. No, they weren't crimson, they were more cerise. He then gasped as his foot slipped in the mud, his world turning upside down. He looked up as his fall suddenly came to a halt, an arm supporting his back.

"Look who's laughing now." The Listener said as she pulled him back to his feet. Cicero chuckled as he scratched the back of his head.

"It's rather muddy here, Cicero thinks."

"That's why I didn't want to dance in the rain." The Listener then made her way back under the shelter, wringing out the flaps of her robe.

"Over so soon?" He said quietly. He then took quick, long steps over to his hat and back under the shelter. "Well the Listener still had fun, did she not?" He said as he wrung the water out of his hat, placing it back on his head. She didn't respond, simply staring out in the distance again. Cicero looked back at the ground, making circles in the mud with his heels. There was a long silence between them before Cicero spoke up again.

"Cicero figured out that if we wait until this rain is over, it will take at least two days to get back to the sanctuary by foot if we don't stop. Cicero thinks hitching a ride on a wagon would be good... Especially with how heavy these bags are. Yes, they are heavy indeed!"

The Listener glanced at him for a moment before looking at the road again. "Well, you're the one who just made some gold. If we run into a wagon, you'll be the one paying out of pocket."

To Cicero's delight, they did run into a wagon by late afternoon. And, as the Listener stated, the pay came out of his pocket. He didn't seem to mind though. The wagon was only partially full, open seats on either side near the driver. Cicero placed their bags beside him and on the floor, the Listener sitting between him and a burly Nord.

While the ride relieved them from the weight of the baggage, it caused other ailments. The rain from earlier caused the wagon to get stuck multiple times, forcing everyone to remove themselves and their things off the wagon, and the slow progression of pushing it out of the muddy ruts' suction. When they were moving, the loose stones made for a bumpy ride on the hard wooden benches. Cicero was particularly worried about one of the wheels throughout the whole day, retelling the story to the passengers about the time he was transferring his mother's remains to a new crypt when a wheel from his wagon fell off and he was stuck off the side of the road for days.

"It was this fine lady right here who helped poor Cicero fix his wagon! That terrible Loreius! (That was the farmer who lived not far from where Cicero's wagon broke), he REFUSED to help poor Cicero! For days I tried, but he wouldn't help! So she came across me on the road (that's how we met, you see), and when she came across poor Cicero and his mother she decided to help! And help she did, she did indeed! She was able to get that Loreius to fix Cicero's wagon in a heartbeat!"

All eyes landed on the Listener, who shifted rather uncomfortably from the attention.

"Hey," a Breton said as he scratched his chin. "I haven't heard a word from this one, except for when she says something to Cicero here. Why ain't she talking? Got a problem with us or someth'in?"

Cicero leaned forward, as if to take the attention off of her. "Why would a lady want to take part in a conversation amongst men? It's sure to be uncomfortable, and my sweet lady is so tired! So tired from all of that walking with all our bags, you see? From Markarth we came by foot before this here wagon saw us! Such joy it brought her! She was already quite cranky from having to walk in that downpour, yes! She's not particularly fond of traveling in damp clothing, you see... You know how women are, so emotional and crazy during... Well, their _special_ time once or twice during the year. Who knows, maybe she's going through it now?"

The remark earned a few stifled laughs, as well as stiffened expressions. "OUCH!" He rubbed his shin. Looking up, he could see an expression on the Listener's face that told him he went too far in his explanation. "Oh, Listener Cicero is so sorry! He did not mean to offend his sweet, sweet lady..." He stroke her hand for a moment before she pulled away.

The wagon erupted in an uproar of laughter. "Looks like he's too big for his trousers!" "Such a push over!" "If he's got to bow down to a womer, then surely he's just as pathetic a man as he appears!"

Cicero's face turned red with rage, the Listener's honor being the only thing keeping him back. The Listener remained silent, only giving glares to those who gave her disrespectful looks.

The driver glanced back."That's enough, leave those two alone or I'll kick your sorry hides off my wagon." The men then quieted, giving a few displeased grunts. Small conversations budded between some of the men as they continued onward. Shadows grew long, and soon it was almost completely dark.

"HAULT! In the name of the Empire!" The wagon came to an abrupt stop.

The Listener and Cicero looked at one another. Cicero only pursed his lips as he observed his surroundings. Madrale sat rigid, listening intently. Had they followed them all this time?

"What's the problem, soldier? I'm already off schedule and need to get these people to their destinations."

A couple of soldiers approached the rear with torches in their hands. "We need to check every wagon that passes this point, as directed by Commander Maro. It will only take a moment of your time if all is well."

"Fine then, be on with it. I have nothing to hide."

A soldier stepped onto the wagon, putting the torch up to each of their faces.

Madrale looked at the guard. She was suddenly glad that the disrespectful, bulky nord was sitting beside her: she doubted that the soldier had even noted her presence yet. He passed some all together, and paused at those wearing any sort of robe. He stopped at a small wood elf, turning to shout to the other men.

"Hey, I think I found someone who meets the description! A wood elf!"

"We're looking for a dark elf, not a wood elf!"

"What?"

"A dark elf!"

"I still can't understand what you're saying, Halgrin!"

"Then come here, you dimwit!"

The soldier threw a few choice words back at the other soldier. Turning before he jumped off the wagon, he faced the passengers. "Don't anybody move. Anyone who does will be brought to prison, or worse. Do you hear?"

Once he was off, the Listener looked around, cautiously turning with her hands on the rails of the wagon. The nord beside her gave her a bewildered look. "What are you doing? Didn't you hear the man?"

Lightly landing on the ground, she sneaked under the wagon, unnoticed.

"Oh, a _dark elf_. You should of just said it louder! Where do you think we are? One of those haunted barrows?" The soldier returned to the wagon, slowly looking over each of them again. He paused when he saw Cicero. "Now look what we have here, a jester. What would a clown be doing in Skyrim? There's no use for you here. And that's quite a bit of baggage, suspicious I say."

Cicero let out a laugh. "Cicero is heading for solitude! Why, you're an Imperial are you not? You should know about the Bard's college!"

"The Bard's college? You mean you're one of those dancing and singing sort? Alright, I'd have to be an idiot not to understand that by your appearance, but what's with the large bags?"

"Food, of course! Me and my _sort_ need to eat, and there are many mouths to feed! So they sent Cicero out to buy some food."

The soldier paused again, thinking. Satisfied with Cicero's answer, he turned back to the rest of the passengers. "Alright, seeing that none of you met the description of what we are looking for, I'll let you go. We're looking for someone wearing black and red mage robes with a hand print on it. There's a bounty out on any returned to us alive or dead, especially if it's a dark elf. Have any of you seen such a person?"

The passengers were silent, some glancing over at Cicero. The man beside Cicero then spoke up. "I've never seen a robe like that in my life. I don't think you have much luck with this wagon."

The soldier then turned to the the driver. "And you, driver: are all of your passengers accounted for?"

The man turned around and looked upon each and every face. "Yes, they're all here."

The soldier sighed, then giving a hand signal to the other soldiers. "Alright then, you're cleared to go. Have a nice night."

"Thank you sir," the driver said before clicking his horses forward.

Cicero looked around frantically, squinting his eyes: if she were under the wagon, they'd see her as soon as the wagon passed over her! As they got farther away he saw no signs of her. Did she run off into the woods? If she had, they might get separated, and who knows whether or not she'd ever make it back to the sanctuary alive! Well, of course she would... For she was the Listener! The real question was, how is poor Cicero supposed to carry all these packs all on his own? The wagon began to creak underneath their feet. He jumped as a thud landed beside him.

"Listener, you're here! Cicero thought he'd never see you again! How did you... Oh, hooHooHOO! You were stretched beneath the wagon, weren't you?!"

She smiled at him. The Listener then looked across the faces of the other passengers. Each and every one of them had seen her. Each and every one of them knew that she was wearing a black and red robe with a hand print on it, and they all knew that she was a dark elf. "Why didn't any of you turn me in?"

They all looked at each other. "You must be the one they're looking for then, right?" One said.

The nord beside her snickered. "Anyone who's an enemy of the damn Empire is a friend of mine." The others nodded in agreement.

Cicero nudged her, giggling in delight. "Oh how wonderful this, my_ sweet lady!_"

She couldn't help but wonder: would she still be a friend if they knew who she really was?

* * *

"We're home, we're home, we're home!" Cicero danced for joy, even with the packs on his back, as the Listener activated the door. Night had fallen hours beforehand, the last few stretches of the journey taken by foot. Both of them were exhausted, almost reaching their limits.

With a loud snap, the door began trudging open. "Open faster! Open faster!" As soon as the opportunity presented itself, he pushed his way through the door, getting stuck for a moment when the pack wouldn't fit through. "Home SWEET home!" His shouts bounced off the hall walls and down through the dining room. Weary, the Listener followed quietly behind.

"HEY Nazir, guess WHO'S home?" They heard Babette yell. As the Listener approached, Cicero running to check on the Night Mother, Babette gave her warm greeting. "Welcome back! I take it you were successful in both your assignments."

"Yes," she smiled faintly. "Both were successful. How were things here?"

"Oh, they were... Somewhat peaceful. We have some company."

"Company?" The Listener frowned. "Did Nazir get those recruits?"

"No, it's an old member from a long time ago. We thought she was dead, but apparently not."

"Well, isn't that... Interesting. It may be good to have someone with some experience though." She watched as Babette made a strange face.

"Sure, I suppose you could say that."

Nazir walked up the stairs, then leaning against the wall. "So you're finally home huh? I beat you guys by a long shot. I've been back for a couple of days. Can't wait to dig into that food you've got!" He laughed.

"I'm assuming all went well on your end?"

Nazir pulled a corner of his lips in. "Yeah, well the contract was easy. The man couldn't even scream before the light dimmed from his eyes." He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well, you two must be hungry. There's still food left in the pot."

The Listener nodded, then going down into the dining room.

"Did someone say food? Cicero is FAMISHED!" He quickly followed after the Listener, attempting to peek over her shoulder to see what was in the pot. "Oooh! Cheesy goop! Cicero's favorite when he's starving!" The Listener watched as he danced over to grab a bowl from the shelf, using his elbow to wipe out the dust. Her bowl hadn't been much different in condition: they really needed to keep a clean cloth over the dishes.

Nazir sat across from them at the table once they sat down. He watched as the Listener began to eat, glancing up at him every couple of seconds. "Listen... I know you just got here, but there's something I need to tell you."

"I thought I heard a commotion." Svenja entered the room, curling her brown hair around a finger. "Has the Listener returned?"

Nazir grumbled. "Perfect timing."

The Listener looked at the woman closely. She was certainly built like an assassin, it was obvious simply by the way she walked. She cleared her throat, gaining Svenja's attention. "I am the Listener."

A faint look of disdain flickered. "Oh, I see... Well, welcome home. It's been a long time since anyone has held that title." She picked up a bowl, serving herself at the pot.

Nazir watched, a disgruntled expression on his face. "Didn't you eat earlier with the rest of us, Svenja?"

She took her place beside him at the table. "I'm feeling rather peckish. You can't blame a woman for that, can you?"

He gave a quiet sigh, then turning back to the Listener. "Why don't you tell me about your contract?"

She used her spoon to point at the jester. "You'll have to ask Cicero for the particularities about the kill. I allowed him to do that on his own while I went ahead to the Markarth stables to rent the horses we were supposed to take back to Dawnstar."

Cicero rested an arm on her shoulder, grinning wildly. "Oh the kill, the KILL! It had been so long since Cicero has been able to have a contracted kill! Not since that mad joker who still laughs in my head! So thankful, SO thankful to you, oh great Listener! Hnmmmm."

"You allowed_ him _to go on his own? Will there be no more of this doubling up then?" The look on Nazir's face was hopeful.

The Listener shook her head. "There's no guarantees. Your contract and ours were special cases. I allowed you because I trusted you to get in and out of Riften without any trouble. As for in Markarth, we were already behind schedule and I knew we were running dangerously low on food."

Cicero glanced at the Listener with a frown. He hadn't seen any purchased food when he found her at the Silver Blood Inn. He then glanced at the nordic woman... Rather too attentive, that one. Too attentive, and too much... Something. He looked away quickly when she took notice of his stare.

"Most of the time was spent traveling. I wanted to be cautious, since the Imperials like using the northern stretch of the road towards Solitude. We ran into a bad downpour as well, but we managed to take a wagon most of the way back here."

They all turned to look when Svenja sneared. "You took eight days to get to Markarth and back? Passing those numb skulls is nothing! I don't see why one would need to be so cautious."

Cicero's chair made an abrupt screech as he sat forward in his seat, its back legs in the air. He gave her a serious look. "The Listener is the one who saved the Dark Brotherhood from extinction! You dare question the ways of the one Mother has chosen?"

"Nazir, what is this _clown_ doing here anyway?"

He grinned. "Cicero is the Keeper, you best remember that. He's got quite the temper you do not want to face."

They exchanged conflicting stares. Nazir looked between them, amused by their irritation with one another.

"Oh yeah, Svenja here used to be a part of the Cheydenhal family up till things fell apart." He looked at Cicero. "She says she was there to the very end, then leaving and taking on the known contracts across Cyrodiil. Maybe you ran into each other there?"

Cicero leaned back with a strange look on his face. He then looked at Svenja, who stared at him dully. "No, Cicero has never seen this Svenja before, Never in his life. Not before he was Keeper, and certainly not after."

Nazir rubbed his hands together. "Well it has been fourteen years, and you kept to yourself didn't you? You likely forgot about her after so much time there."

"No, Cicero never forgets a face. Her face was never in the Cheydenhal sanctuary, Cicero would have recognized her. This Svenja was never a part of my Family, Cicero was the last of the last."

Svenja huffed, crossing her arms. "I was there. Clearly this man is a nutcase. If he did stay till the very end, isolated with the Night Mother's body... Well, no wonder he's gone crazy, and that's clearly why he has forgotten. I can't say I recognize him much, but we could have easily passed each other on opposite rotations for contracts back when the Family flourished."

Cicero growled in disapproval. He looked at the Listener when she placed a hand on his knee, biting his tongue when he saw the authoritative look on her face. He then put on a smile, turning to Nazir. "Nazir, my brother! I see that you took good care of keeping after Mother when I was gone! The candles, the bugs... Mother will bless you for it."

Nazir glanced at Svenja. "Hnm, yes, the last thing I want is a pest desecrating the Night Mother's corpse."

Svenja sighed, then pushing back her chair. "I believe I'm going to retire. It has been a long day for me, as I'm sure it has been for you, Listener. It's good to have another mediator for the Night Mother." The Listener nodded her head.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Nazir leaned in towards the Listener. "Madrale, I need to talk to you about something important... Alone."

Seeing the look on Nazir's face Cicero jumped to his feet, letting out a small laugh. "You two can stay here! Mother still needs to be cleaned... I've been gone eight days after all!" He then left as well.

"Getting rid of him was easier than I thought it would be." Nazir said in amazement.

"What is it you wanted to tell me?"

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "When I was in Riften, the contract went smoothly. I broke into the house unnoticed, and the target was still asleep when I killed him. But then... Then something happened."

"What happened?"

"Maven Black-Briar is what happened. She set up the whole thing. Told me that if we didn't give ear to her she'd turn in her man and give us problems in the Rift."

The Listener scoffed. "How petty! That woman doesn't know where to stop!"

"I take it you've had some run-ins with her before?"

"Yeah, I have. I was made Thane under Jarl Laila Law-Giver, which makes me on bad terms with _Madam_ Black-Briar."

"I see..." He chuckled. "Well, that could make things more complicated."

"Why?"

"Because she wants to see you."

* * *

Cicero glanced down into the dining room. The Listener had started pacing beside the table. He wanted so badly to listen in, but he knew it wasn't any of his business. It was the Listener's business.  
"Oh Mother, so squeaky clean! And the candles, they've all been replaced, all the dry dripped wax has been removed, and the wicks lit! The oil needs to be replaced, yes the stock is running low... The troll fat! What had he done with the troll fat? Must clean and cut, clean and cut! Place in bowls and put it somewhere the un-child wouldn't find it. The un-child is an alchemist too, must be careful or the Listener shan't get any! Cicero didn't follow that nasty scent and scrape those bones for the un-child. No, Cicero did it for the Listener. His master, not the un-child. Tired, so tired..."

Cicero stifled a yawn. It was time for bed. His nice, warm bed, eight days gone without it. He was fond of his bed, even if he wasn't extremely fond of his roommate. He couldn't walk through the dining room: he might disrupt the conversation. Over the bridge instead! It was just more stairs is all. He smiled to himself, a spring to his step. It was good to be home.

He stared at the closed doors of the Listener's quarters. Perhaps he should stop in and visit her..? Oh, but that's right, she was still in the dining room, speaking with Nazir... Alone. It would be nice if he could speak to her alone. He liked having her all to himself those past eight days, even if he didn't have his nice bed. Sighing, he opened his door.

"Oh, it's you." Svenja was in the room. More specifically, Cicero noted, on _his _bed.

"Why, hello Svenja! Cicero is wondering... What, what are you doing in here?" He cocked his head to the side.

She scowled. "What does it look like? I'm trying to sleep. Why don't you go somewhere else."

Cicero laughed, closing the door behind him. "You're a funny one, yes you are! Are you sure it isn't me but_ you_ who is the clown?"

She looked up from her journal, wrinkling her forehead. "You're out of your mind."

He chuckled some more. "Hilarious! Cicero can't stop laughing! Svenja comes and sleeps in Cicero's very own bed, and then tells Cicero to leave when he comes to sleep in it? Very funny indeed!"

"You're bed?" She put her journal to the side, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I don't believe these are anyone in particular's beds. I was here first, it's mine. Now go find somewhere else to sleep. The bed in the next room is big enough for two, why don't you sleep in there? I'm sure it's more comfortable than this bed anyways."

"THAT IS THE LISTENER'S BED! Cicero know better than to sleep in someone else's bed, but apparently you DON'T!"

"Does it matter? You're basically her dog. That's how she sees you at least, when you hang all over her like you did at the table tonight. I pity she has to put up with you, even if she is a dark elf."

"BLASPHEMY!DISRESPECT! I'll KILL _you_, I'll KILL YOU!"

She quickly jumped to her feet, drawing her own dagger as the madman drew his. "OVER A BED? YOU REALLY ARE NUTS!"

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. "What's going on in here?" They both turned and look at Nazir, who stood with a hand on his hilt. Cicero swung his hand in her direction.

"It's HER! She's mocking THE LISTENER! Her HONOR! She steals Cicero's bed and then tells Cicero to go sleep with the Listener!"

Svenja put her hands on her hips, releasing a huff. "This freak interrupted my wind-down time. I was here first, I don't see a reason why I need to give it up. There's plenty of space for him to cuddle up next to his great and wonderful mistress."

"You SEE, YOU SEE? Do you HEAR what she's SAYING?"

Nazir made a mental sigh as he saw Cicero's red face, begging for justice. "Svenja, leave."

She hung her jaw.

"Svenja, I said_ leave_."

She sputtered a laugh. "You can't be serious! You're siding with _him_?"

"As much as I dislike him, that is Cicero's bed. We only ordered enough beds for the number of people we had before you came. If you had sent us a notice about your arrival earlier, we could have accommodated."

"Where am I supposed to sleep then, huh? On the cold stone _floor_?"

The Listener silently entered behind Nazir, looking curiously from face to face. Nazir crossed his arms.

"You'll figure something out. You've been traveling all over for almost twenty years now, I'm sure you're quite used to sleeping on the ground if you must. Why don't you wait for the Khajiit caravan to come around these parts? You could buy a bedroll from them. In the mean time, if you insist on sleeping in a bed you can always make your way over to the inn. It's not a far walk you know, would be good for your legs so they don't get flabby."

"I can't believe this! This is, this is... Cruelty! Injustice, that's what this is!" Seeing the unchanged expression on Nazir's face, she looked at Madrale.

"Fine then. Fine, I don't want to sleep under the same roof as filthy freaks like these anyhow." She stormed out of the room. Cicero gave sigh of relief, pushing out the rest of his frustrations with it.

"I suppose we need to order more beds if we're thinking about getting new recruits soon." The Listener said to Nazir as he turned to look at her.

"Yeah, you're right... We should just buy them from somewhere local this time. Or perhaps those who stay behind should build them by hand."

Madrale watched as Cicero threw quick glances at her, as if he were uncomfortable with her presence. "Yeah that sounds like a good idea."


	6. Bulmond Honest-Hand

**A/N: Hey guys!**  
**Just as a note for those interested in seeing what Madrale looks like, look me up on DA! I go by the same penname. In fact, if you search "Madrale the Listener" my portraits of Nazir, Babette, and Cicero should pop up right next to hers as well! If you have a DA, watch me if you'd like and leave me a note so I'll watch you back.**

**Guest Review responses: Guest who was Italy the first time: Haha I'm good, but not quite_ that_ good. ;) Thank you for reviewing and following my story!**  
**Other guest, yep Nazir decided to be nice to Cicero for once!**  
**Shadowcat98, I don't believe I responded to your review: Yes, yes I try to keep that element of racisim. And awkwardness, what would we do without IT?!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a labor or love for you guys!**

**-Liliedove**

* * *

Madrale rolled her head, stretching her arms out in front of her. Yawning, she wondered how all of the others could be so wide awake during the first few hours of the day. She watched them from the small table in the first room. The nordic boy was always lively it seemed, and from a little town in Winterhold of all places. It was surprising that he was as optimistic as he was, coming from a god-forsaken land like that. It is only known for the College, to the point that Jarl Korir's name is rarely mentioned except perhaps in a joke. Because of the many years she spent living as a student at the College, she knew first hand how horrid the weather was there.

The boy flipped his bowl in the air, catching it with his foot and throwing it up again, then catching it with his hand. He turned and wiggled his eyebrows towards the Breton woman who was making her way towards the table with her bread and soup. She didn't seem entertained. Not much was known about that one: she didn't converse much. Babette was already at the table, sitting quietly as usual. She and the female recruit seemed to get along alright.

"Good morning." Nazir pulled out the other chair with one hand, the other holding his breakfast, and sat in it. "I see you've been eying the new recruits; what do you think?"

The Listener took a sip from her glass."Are you sure that boy could handle plunging a knife? He seems rather..."

"Too happy? Thrilled? Zealous about life?" He took a bite out of his bread. "Rest assured, he can do the job. He may be a little naïve about the true nature of assassination, but he's got potential. That innocence will be lost quickly. I assigned him to go along with Babette today, It should be an easy enough contract. Babette can get a good observation of his skill sets."

She nodded her head. "Good. How did you discover him?"

"There was a rumor going around about a farm that was raided by Imperials. They slaughtered their cattle, stole their horses and crop, and ravaged the land owner's wife and daughters. The owner was absent, joined the Stormcloaks a year or so ago. The man of the house, the owner's son, was away selling some of their produce. When he discovered what had happened, he hunted down the platoon and killed them all." He looked down at the boy, who was now talking avidly to silent company. "Bulmond is a good kid really, but he's been corrupted by that event. He'll probably never forgive himself for not being there, probably feels like he can't be called a man now. That's what made it easy for me to convince him to join us instead of remaining on his farm. Regarding that the nature of many of the contracts have to do with rape, abuse, and other unfair situations, I'm sure he'll be passionate about his kills. I just wonder how he'll fair with killing out of duty rather than pure rage. We'll find out soon enough."

"He's still quite young to be in this sort of business. He can't be any older than seventeen." She muttered.

"Some have been younger. Svenja was fifteen when she joined the Family. I'm not sure what her story is though. I tried to restrict our relationship as much as possible."

The Listener chuckled. "Oh? Did she... Fancy you?"

Nazir snickered. "I suppose you could say that. Or at least, I suspected it. I was the closest in age to her who wasn't... Well, I was one of the only humans around. Besides that though, she always got into trouble, always putting her nose where it didn't belong. I've warned you before, and I'll warn you again: keep an eye on her. You never know when she'll reek havoc on your life."

"She has yet to cause any real trouble besides getting into disputes with Cicero once in a while. Until she proves herself a traitor, I must allow her to stay. She completes her contracts with all the bonuses. She's good at her job."

"Oh I never said she was bad at her job, she has always been excellent! I can testify to that. But seriously, if you take your eye off her for one minute she'll be doing something you don't want her to be doing. Particularly things pertaining to your personal life." Nazir gave her a serious look.

"I'll keep that in mind." She looked down into the dining room again. Bulmond raised his glass in the air as Svena entered the room, cheering. It had been two months since she had first arrived. She disappeared for a while after her clash with Cicero, but then she returned one day as though nothing ever happened, simply asking whether or not she had her own bed yet. She had been rather quiet ever since, perking up more when the new recruits arrived a week ago. The Listener began nodding off.

"Hey, that's quite a few bags you've got under your eyes. Not sleeping much huh?"

Her attention snapped back to Nazir."I suppose you could say that..."

"Well take it from me, we all know you're working hard. Take a bit of a break once in a while, won't you? You won't be much use to us dead. Well, actually you could if Sithis ordained it, but half dead on your feet while you're still alive won't get us anywhere."

They shared a small laugh. "I'll keep that in mind too, though I don't know how successful I'll be at making that happen. I stir from my sleep easily, may as well do what needs to be done if sleep refuses to come."

"Why don't you drink some heavy ale before bed then? That always puts me fast asleep."

"No, I do crazy things when I drink heavy alcohol. I experienced enough of that in my youth."

"Oh really?" He raised his eyebrows. "I never thought of you as the type to not hold your liquor."

"Yeah, I get a skull cracking headache after my second cup. No thank you."

"Well you could always ask Babette to mix up something for you, she's had more than a century of experience. I'm sure she could think of something to help you sleep."

"I might ask her to make me something once she and the boy return from their contract. They're leaving before noon, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I gave them the contract you told me about near the boarder of Haafingar and the Pale. It shouldn't take them too long to get there, Bulmond is pretty nimble when it comes to fast travel. Babette on the other hand; well, I think you understand."

"Knowing her she might attract the attention of a wagon! I hope she doesn't go too easy on the boy!"

* * *

Cicero hummed merrily to himself as he packed his things. Not a great many things, but a few things to last him through his journey: some stale bread he scraped the mold off of, a canteen filled with water which he found trickling down a wall near the escape exit (tasted rather strange, but oh well), and a chicken bone. Oh, what fun! Out on the hunt, again! So many contracts, so many contracts! It had been so long since he had so many contracts! Oh, but the Listener wouldn't be going with him... again. No more partners, all Nazir's fault! Oh, but she defended him when Cicero accused him for it. Said she agreed, it was her own decision. At least he wouldn't have to go with Nazir again. No, that one time Cicero had to go with Nazir was a nasty, nasty time.

"Anything else to pack..?" He said to himself. "No? Well, Cicero should get going then, shouldn't he? Yes, the faster he goes, the faster he kills, the faster he can come home! Oh, but not too fast, no Cicero must enjoy the contract; the adrenaline, the danger, secret escapes in the night! Hnmmm yes! Yes, Cicero shouldn't rush too much." He closed his small trunk and slid it under his bed again. Couldn't be too secretive... What if that nord kid came snooping about? Or, or that nasty, nasty Svenja. Always so sneaky, must watch out for that one. The Listener might not mind her, but she just doesn't understand. She doesn't understand, but Cicero does. He always has.

Cicero looked from the hall to the open doorway adjacent to his. Maybe, maybe for just a minute it would be alright. Yes, just one minute, that's all! One tiny, ency minute! He strolled into the room. The Listener sat at her desk, documenting something as usual. The shelf that had been nearly bare the month before now had stacks upon stacks of bound books, rolled up papers, and other various items. Too much booking work, no fun. She needed to have more fun. She looked so tired there, writing word after word, dipping her pen every other. She now spent most of her day in her quarters, documenting everything. She rarely had time to spend with Cicero, and she rarely came to Cicero herself. Too busy, yes she needed to lighten up.

"Good morning, oh great and mighty Listener!" Cicero leaned against her desk, grinning as he stared down at her. She looked up from her paper.

"Good afternoon, Cicero."

"Afternoon already?" He took his elbow off the desk. "Why, how time flies! Anyway, Cicero came in here to say that he's off! Goodbye!"

"You were assigned the contract in the northern part of Haafingar, weren't you?"

He leaped in the air. "Yes, yes Cicero was! Up, up, up!" He said raising his hand, "UP past good 'ol SOLITUDE! Past ALL those TRICKY, nasty Imperial Legionnaires!" He laughed, holding his stomach. "Oh won't this be fun? Sneaking past those simpletons!"

The Listener gave him a serious look. "Cicero, _be careful_."

He paused, his smile frozen. "...Hnm, well, of course Cicero will be_ careful_, of course. Well. Cicero will be off! I will be back _as fast_ as I can! Cicero will be back before the Listener knows, so there's no need to worry about _his safety..._."

"Alright then." She looked back down at her paper. Cicero continued to stand there, looking at her blankly. She glanced up at him periodically, wondering why he was still there.

He fidgeted his feet, crossing the curled toes of his shoes. "Listener..."

"Yes?" She continued looking down at her writing.

"Cicero was just thinking, _wondering, _perhaps the Listener will go with Cicero- or rather, Cicero can go with Listener on... another... contract? Listener and Keeper, _on the hunt_! Right..?" He swung his elbow forward across his chest, an wavering smile on his face. His heart hammered when she looked up at him. Did she think he was a fool? A stupid, foolish man for suggesting such a thing? He gaped like a fish, thinking of something further to say. "Well, you know, Cicero was_ thinking_ that it_ has been_ so much time since we last were together on the hunt alone, and it was _delightful_ the last time we went, was it not? Cicero thought we made a good team and liked following the Listener. It's been lonely, going solo again on missions these past many weeks... It makes Cicero nervous, Mother being all lone all the time with Cicero gone on missions. But, but of course! You, the _Listener _are here to take care of her! Cicero mustn't worry about her so much when the Listener is here... Doing the keeping for, for the Keeper..."

A sad look flickered across her face for but a moment, then replaced with a serious one. "I have thought through it, and have decided to limit how much I leave the sanctuary; at least as a member of the Dark Brotherhood. After what happened last time, we know that Commander Maro is on the look out for me, seeking revenge, and he's got control over the troops on the road. He can easily do whatever investigating he wants under the nose of his General and Jarl Elisif of Solitude. I know you don't wear the shroud, but I don't know if I could forgive myself if anything happened to any of you. I know that there are always risks in this business, but as long as I'm Listener I swear, by Sithis, I will do all in my power to not let a single member of the family die."

"What does that all mean, Listener?" He had a solemn look on his face, knowing what she was going to say.

"It means that it's likely we'll rarely if ever go on another contract with one another, or at least not until we have a firmer foundation. I will not leave the Brotherhood to struggle again under the circumstance of no Listener. Do you understand what I'm saying, Cicero?"

"Why, of course Cicero understands what you are saying, he isn't _stupid_!" He had a sour look on his face. He looked down at his feet, and then to the door. "The Listener was gone for so long... Cicero understands what the Listener is saying. Mother would be very displeased if you got yourself KILLED when there are plenty of other worthless murderers here to do to that."

"You're not worthless, Cicero." She said softly.

He then looked up, smirking. "Ah, but I am a murderer, aren't I? A crazy, INSANE, MADMAN of a MURDERER! Yes, that I am and you know it! They all know it! I always succeed! Yes, I do! ...Well there was that one time when Arnbjorn chased after me, WOUNDED ME, with those long, nasty, sharp-SHARP CLAWS!" He shivered, putting a hand over the area of his scar. "Cicero... Cicero didn't like that..."

"Again, I'll remind you," she leaned forward across her desk. "Be careful. Don't get into any unnecessary fights, especially with Imperials. Maro could have eyes and ears everywhere. Before you know it, someone could realize who you're associated with."

"Don't worry, don't worry!" He cackled, spinning in a circle. "Cicero will be fine! Fine, fine FINE! Don't worry about Cicero, Cicero is strong and MIGHTY! Well, perhaps not so mighty as_ you,_ but mighty still! All these contracts are bringing the old Cicero back from the dead! Ah, but the joker is still there, he always will be, I, I mean Cicero thinks."

She furrowed her brow together, giving him a strange look. He left his mouth open again for a moment, before looking over to the door again. "Well, Cicero really should go now. Faster he goes, faster he returns! Perhaps Cicero will beat the un-child and the boy! A race, a race! Goodbye Sweet Lady!" He dashed out of the room before she could speak another word. He had taken to calling her Sweet Lady since he used it as an alias on the wagon. She didn't seem to appreciate it too much, but it stuck.

* * *

Babette and Bulmond had been on the road since early afternoon. They made a good distance in the time they had been traveling. Babette looked up at the blond. Long hair, but barely any whiskers. He was still very much a kid. He always seemed to have a spring to his step too; it was hard to believe that he willingly joined the Dark Brotherhood. Perhaps he was just in over his head: bored with life, the idea of being an assassin sounding more thrilling than a soldier. It would be best if he mostly did the watching in this contract.

"Bulmond, correct?" They hadn't spoken much up to this point. She thought he would be running his gums like he did the past week in the Sanctuary, but it seemed he was more interested in seeing the scenery now.

He looked down at her. "What? Oh, yes! That's my name: Bulmond Honest-Hand."

"Honest-Hand? How did you get that name?"

"Well, my family has always been in the farming business. We've never had things wealthy people had, but we had a large farm. My father, and his father, and his father before him all worked on our farm. I guess you could say we have our own little village almost. We all live on the same piece of land, just spaced out a little. My grandfather and my uncles still live there, but we grew a bit distant when this damn war began. My father joined the Stormcloaks and my cousins joined the Imperial army." He raised a corner of his mouth at the mention of them. "So anyway, we're called Honest-Hand because we got what we had by blood, sweat, and tears. No hand outs, no thievery, no unpaid loans: we did everything by the book."

"Oh, I get it now." She watched as the boy continued to scowl. Something he said was still bothering him. Perhaps he wasn't as young as she first thought. Bitterness, that's what she saw. The clothing he wore over his armor looked worn, and she doubted he simply had them for a disguise. Life in Skyrim truly was rough outside of the walls of the sanctuary in this century. "Anyway, Bulmond I was curious to know how much Nazir briefed you on this contract."

"Briefed?"

"You know, how much he told you about it. Where it is, who our client is."

A light came to his eyes. "Oh! I see what you mean! He told me we were going to Haafingar, a section boardering the Pale. So I'm estimating that if we continue down this road for another hour or so, we'll be in our targeted area. Our client is a man who lives in a small shack not far off the road."

"And what's the man's name?"

"Um, uh... I, I honestly don't remember." He laughed sheepishly as he scratched his head.

"He's an Imperial by the name of Alberno Valerini."

"An Imperial, huh." He scoffed.

"You have a thing for Imperials, huh? It doesn't matter what your views are on a race, he caught the attention of the Night Mother and now he's one of our clients. We must obey the will of Sithis." He hung his head. Turning her face away from him, she smiled. He was still a mama's boy, submitting to discipline so simply. He glanced over at her, looking as though he wanted to say something but held himself back. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing! Nothing, just... I was just wondering. The Night Mother, I've never really heard about her. Is she a Daedric god?"

"Well, no one really knows."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, no one really knows. She's the bride of Sithis, the one who intercedes on a client's behalf. She then relays the message to the Listener, in our case that honorable title is held by Madrale."

Awe melted down his face. "You mean, that dark elf chick? She, she _talks _to her?"

"Yep. Some think she's actually Mephala, and if she is then she is a Daedric prince."

"How does the Night Mother talk to her? Does she spirit her away to Sovngarde or something?"

"No, I've heard it's more telepathic: she speaks to her in her mind. Besides, she wouldn't be spirited away to Sovngarde, none of us are going there, and the Night Mother certainly wouldn't meet her there."

"Why not? I thought that's where all people went when they died."

She looked at him with an almost surprised look; she forgot how naïve people were at his age. "You don't know too much about the gods, do you?"

"Not really. I know about Talos and the eight divines from the stories my mother told, but not much else. My family made a pilgrimage to the Temple of Talos when I was but a wee lad, I remember that much."

"People these days." She sighed. "You're so held up in what you have to do in this life that you don't consider the long term consequences of which realm you will live in in the next life. With death around every corner, you'd think people would be more concerned about that sort of thing."

"Realms? There are different realms we might go to?"

"As you know, Nords who fight with valor go to Sovngarde after death. It is a part of Aetherius, the place in which most of all spirits return to after death. It is said to be the place all magicka originates, and is what gives us each our purpose here. Some call it the un-Void. Besides that, there are the many planes of Oblivion. Some souls, such as those of werewolves, go to Hercine's plane in Oblivion. the Void, which is the realm our Lord Sithis and the Night Mother reside. It is the realm of nothingness that existed before all others. It is beyond the planes of Oblivion, the souls of Daedra killed there ultimately landing in the Void to be used or recycled by Lord Sithis."

He looked confused. "But I'm a Nord, that means I go to Sovngarde then, right? Like all of my ancestors?"

"Well, you might have if you lived out the rest of your life as a common person would."

"Might have? You mean I'm not anymore? Aren't I fighting for valor, bringing justice to this world?"

"Well, yes, but you sworn yourself as a servant of Sithis. Like the rest of us, as well as the souls we harvest here, we will join Lord Sithis and the Night Mother in the Void after death."

"WHAT? We're going somewhere where there's just... Just nothingness? What sort of afterlife is that, huh? And I don't like the idea of being sent to the place all of the people I will assassinate will go." He began to sweat.

"Oh, quit worrying you big baby. It's not what you think."

He gave her a sharp look. "Oh, and how do you know, huh? Have you been there or something? No! You're a vampire! Vampires don't die, and wouldn't you go somewhere else too? Like the werewolves?"

"Could you say that any louder?' She growled. "You'll blow our cover! You don't know how many people could be wandering about. My kind aren't exactly _liked_." He looked at the ground. "Anyway, it doesn't matter that I'm a vampire. I'm sworn to Sithis, so to the void I go if and when I die. When you die, you'll go there too. Nothingness isn't quite what one might imagine, I think. It's just something we've never actually experienced yet."

"I... Guess you've got a point there. It's too much information, I'll just worry about what I've got to do to get to tomorrow. Get me some mead, spill me some blood, get me a woman, and live life the best I can."

"A woman huh? You're into that Amulet of Mara fad I take it?"

"Who isn't? It's traditional now!"

"Well, I suppose I wish you luck, but romance isn't a big thing in our Family. There's no bringing people outside of the Brotherhood into the sanctuary, and there's never exactly been much as far as options in our family here in Skyrim; especially now."

"Oh, just you wait, I've got my eyes on someone. Think I've got a pretty good chance too." He had a serious look on his face.

Babette raised an eyebrow. She then stiffened, taking in a quick breath. Bulmond continued walking a couple paces.

He turned and frowned."What's the hold up?"

She hushed him, turning her head quickly towards the forest as something came rushing out, jumping from the high bolder less than a stone throw away. The creature landed in front of them, hanging close to the ground.

"Hello my sister and brother!"

Babette let out a loud huff. "WHAT WAS THAT! Are you _trying _to get yourself killed? I was about to attack you!"

Cicero stood up, laughing as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. "Your face! You should have seen your face! More like the un-child was about to scream and run!"

Babette snarled at him. Bulmond looked between them, then joining in on the laugh. "Yeah that was pretty funny! I was about to wet myself!"

Cicero put an arm around his shoulder. "That's the spirit! You're one who understands Cicero's humor! You laugh too!" He laughed some more. "Cicero likes the nord boy!"

"The name's Bulmond, Bulmond Honest-Hand." He gave the jester his hand, which was then shook violently.

"Cicero, at your service! Keeper of the Night Mother! The Fool of Hearts!"

Bulmond's eyes grew wide. "Keeper of... the Night Mother?"

Seeing his awe, a smug look spread across Cicero's face as he put his hands on his sides. "Hnm, yes I am! Cicero cares for the Night Mother's corpse. Have to keep those nasty bugs and critters from her... Must oil her and keep her safe from harm. Yes, that's the Keeper's job!"

Babette walked past them. "Walk while you talk, won't you? We've got a schedule to keep."

"Schedule? What schedule?" Cicero said as they followed behind her.

"I don't want this contract to take forever. It's a simple contract to observe Bulmond. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Cicero has a contract too! Yes, he does! Cicero's client is up past Solitude!"

"We'll be taking the same road for a little while more then!" Bulmond said as he slapped Cicero on the back. "Ours isn't too much further from here Though. Our client lives a little ways off the road on the boarder. Some Imperial. I suppose we'll be able to talk a little longer though."

"Oh, good company then! Cicero likes that! Company that understands Cicero's ways! Only the Listener understands Cicero, at least up till now! Perhaps you understand Cicero more so, because you laugh freely at my jokes."

"Well aren't you fast friends." Babette snickered.

"You know what they say: Life is short in Skyrim."

"Yes, good one, good one!" Cicero pulled him closer again with his arm hooked around his neck.

"Easy there, watch the neck, I do need to breath. You're pulling me down to your height too." Bulmond mumbled.

"Oh! Sorry about that." Cicero giggled as he removed his arm.

"So, you say you're the... The Keeper, right?"

"Yes! Yes I am!"

"Well, if you're the Keeper, where is the Night Mother?'

Cicero gave him a strange look, and then burst out laughing. "Oh, good one, _good _one!"

"No, I really mean it. Where is she?"

Cicero then gave him another strange look, saying nothing for a moment. "Are you stupid?"

Babette glanced back and saw the aggravated look appear across the boy's face. "That's not a very nice thing to say, Cicero."

"But really now! He must be blind! You lived in the sanctuary for a week now, haven't you?"

"What does that have to do with it?" He looked frustrated.

"You really are an interesting person! Living in the sanctuary for a week, and not ever noticing the Night Mother?"

Bulmond froze. "You mean, you mean the Night Mother... She's _inside_ the sanctuary?"

"Of course she is! Of course! How could she speak so clearly to the Listener if she isn't by the Listener? Oh, and of course, how could a Keeper keep if there is nothing to keep? Haven't you seen the large, iron coffin in the front room? I leave it open sometimes, so the Night Mother's corpse can air out a bit. You could easily see her yourself. Though of course, no one but Cicero or the Listener is supposed to touch her coffin, or look upon her face without permission..."

His face was white, as if he had seen a ghost for the very first time.

Cicero put a finger in the air, his mouth and eyes open wide. "Ohhh! Cicero just found a way to not be so _lonely _on contracts! I shall summon the ghost of Lucien Lachance! Ah, but not now, not this contract... Poor Cicero hasn't got the scrolls... The Listener does."

"How well do you know the Listener?"

"Oh, well Cicero has known her for a long time now. At least, it feels like a long time. Not so long as it took to _find _her, that took nearly 14 years! Ah, but yes it has been a while. She helped Cicero when he was transporting Mother, before she was even a part of our Family. But Mother knew, Mother knew she would be one of us! She knew she would be the Listener. Perhaps that's why Cicero's wagon broke, so Mother could show Cicero the one he had been looking for so long before arriving at the Falkreath Sanctuary. That place is but ashes now though, destroyed only three months ago. At least, Cicero thinks it was three months now... Maybe four?"

"So the Listener hasn't been around too long?'

"Before you and the Breton lady, the Listener was the newest member. There were... More members, but they died in the fire. They betrayed the five tenets you see, and faced the wrath of Sithis."

"Not all of them betrayed the tenets anymore than Nazir and I did." Babette snapped. "It was Astrid who betrayed us, who tried giving Madrale over to the Imperials! Arnbjorn followed her as her huband, and the others were simply misled."

"Did you say someone was a husband... As in, married?" Bulmond interrupted. The two looked at him.

"Our previous leader, Astrid, was married to Arnbjorn." Babette replied.

"Oh that nasty overgrown sheep dog! Nasty werewolf, that one. So glad he's dead! So cruel to Cicero! Gave him a painful scar right here!" He pulled at the material around his wound.

"But there's marriage! Babette told me that that's rare for... Our_ sort_. What say you, Ciero. Is love really that rare for us?"

"Marriage? _LOVE_?" He giggled for a moment, then sighing. "Oh, I don't know. Cicero came from the Cheydenhal Sanctuary in Cyrodiil not too long ago. Cicero was the only one left there... Marriage, Cicero hasn't seen. Love..?" He tilted his head, biting on his lip. "Perhaps..? Maybe? Oh, Cicero doesn't KNOW! Why do you ask him things like this?!" He threw his hands in the air, letting out an exasperated breath.

"What ruffled your feathers?" Babette questioned.

He clamped down on his lips, throwing his head in the air, refusing to speak. Bulmond looked at the jester quietly, wondering what he did wrong. Cicero then sighed, flapping his lips. "Cicero feels a bit peckish... A carrot would be nice, or a sweet roll."

Bulmond riffled a hand through his pockets. "I don't have a sweet roll, but I do believe I have a carrot."

"You DO?" A smile spread from ear to ear on Cicero's face. The boy pulled a small carrot out, presenting it in the palm of his hand. Cicero quickly snatched it up, giggling. "Oh, Bulmond Honest-Hand! Cicero likees you, Cicero likes you indeed! Very much so, very much!"

"It's no problem. I'm not particularly hungry anyways. I'm on the road a lot selling produce and I can't eat the produce I could make some coin off of so I know what wild things are good for eating if I do get hungry."

"Smart one, that you are!" He made a loud crunch as he bit the carrot. "H-Hey, were are you guys going?"

Babette had started leading them off the main road and onto a dirt path. She looked back to see Cicero pointing at the road. "We've got to go this way now. See you back at home."

"Oh, I see... Goodbye sister, brother. Cicero will see you at home! A race, a race! Let's see who get's back first! You are closer, but we shall see; Cicero flies fast and free!" He cackled as he began running onward. They watched him go, still staring in his direction after he went out of sight.

"Well, we best be on our way." Babette said, breaking the spell of silence.

"Yeah... I like that guy!"

* * *

Bulmond peaked his eyes over a rock, looking at the campfire in the distance, burning bright against the dark sky. He could see silhouettes men sitting around it. Babette pulled at his sleeve. "Do you understand the plan?" He shook his head with a smile.

In the late afternoon they met with the client. A stout man with a wife and young son. He didn't feel quite as hardened towards the man as he originally was when hearing he was an Imperial. Apparently his family was also involved with the sacrament, for they remained when he discussed the nature of his request. Robbers. They came in the night and took their valuables. They had caused trouble in the area for quite some time, but no one had done anything about it. He wanted the leader of their cause, a male Orc with a red hand print across his face, dead.

With his rags thrown off for some time now, he blended in completely.

"Now listen, you'll go out there and make a ruckus. I don't care what you do, just get their attention onto you. While they're distracted, I'll sneak up to the leader and take him out. Got it?"

"Got it!"

"Now tell me, what do you do if we get separated?"

"Make circles and meet you back at the sanctuary."

"Good! Now, on my count..."

The next moment Bulmond made his way towards the men, running as fast as he could, screaming while swinging his axe in the air. Babette sighed. He wasn't exactly the image of an assassin. Nords and their axes and loud mouths! It did the trick though. The men all stood up, drawing their weapons. She watched, her eyes darting from face to face as she squint to see. Her sharp eyesight certainly was a blessing. Bulmond began hacking at the men. Still no sign of- wait. She smiled faintly as she locked on to the orc's face. "I've found you."

Bulmond noticed Babette's disappearance from the rock. He glanced around, trying to find the Orc she would be attacking.

"Where do you think we're coming from boy? The _ground_?" He took in a sharp breath as a sword slashed across his chest. He looked down. The armor had protected him. He then felt the man behind him, dodging to the side as a hammer swung down. Too late, he groaned when he heard a crack, falling to a knee; he couldn't feel his left arm. He then screamed when the pain surfaced.

"It was a mistake that you came here, you foolish boy!"

As he winced, he looked between the legs of the men. He couldn't find Babette. _What do you do if we get separated? _No, he wouldn't abandon her. He ducked between a man's legs, swinging his right arm as he went to keep their distance.

"Oh, looks like he's going to try again!"

"You didn't hit him hard enough, Thrud!"

"Yeah well I won't go easy on him anymore."

He scanned the area again for Babette. He saw the Orc, Babette shortly behind him. What was she planning on doing? Pouncing him? What about the men, was she expecting him to hold all of them off forever? As he looked at the men surrounding them, it dawned on him: there were more men than before. They were descending from the woods. With the pause, a cord of fear strummed in his heart. Was he going to die here? Was he going to be the recruit known for dying on the first mission? The failure? The one who couldn't protect his family? His true family, and now his new family? The Void... To die like this, what would happen once he was cast into the Void?

He let out a battle cry, charging into a man while swinging his axe across his throat. As the man's body dropped, others nearest to him froze for a moment, reassessing the situation. A loud cry rang out, and everyone's attention was placed on the Orc, now on the ground with a girl hovering over him. Before any of the bandits could make a move, Bulmond charged again, attacking any and all in the path towards the girl. As more men descended upon them, Babette looked up with blood dripping from her chin.

"HEY!" She shouted. Bulmond turned to look at her for a moment. "Our contract is complete, go!"

They were retreating? The Orc was clearly dead. But, what would happen to those who lived around here? What would happen now that they were enraged? The women? What would happen to them? He looked from the men starting to form a circle around him to the ones who would soon join, jumping out from the forest line. If he stayed, he would die. In a split second decision, he begun to run as fast as his legs would carry him. The other side, he would run into the other side where he didn't see men running out. He could hear the clinking of armor behind him, the men shouting to one another. Diving into the forest, he humphed as he began rolling down a steep hill, his head pushed into his abdomen and his left arm flopping loosely. Leaves were thrown into the air, sticks snapped, and it took a minute before he could shake the dizziness from his head. Run, he needed to run. He stumbled as he stood to his feet. He needed to run, and run fast. If they caught him, he would be dead. As he began walking, he folded over in pain, a hand on his stomach. Need to... Need to run. He recalled his earlier days with the other boys, the days they would hunt one another. But this was real, this was real and if he didn't hide his tracks well enough, didn't make his way quiet enough, didn't hide his panting breaths: he would die. He couldn't feel his feet by the time he stopped to rest. Water, he needed his- he felt his side. The canteen was gone. He had circled so much that they must have lost his trail. At least he thought that he did. Was it enough? The sanctuary, he needed to get to the sanctuary.

* * *

"Peace and quiet, just how I like it!" Nazir laughed as he let out a content breath, resting his feet up on a stool. "I like being able to get rid of two loud mouths at once."

"Weren't you the one who selected one of the two_ loud mouths _as you call them?"

Nazir gave Svenja a dull look. "Quit looking at me with those criticizing eyes."

"I'm not criticizing! I'm just saying... If you hate loud people so much I don't see why you recruited one."

"I'm not saying he's real loud or that loud people are necessarily _annoying_... It's mainly Cicero that I have qualms with."

"You and I both." She snorted.

"Hey MADRALE! You ever going to leave that desk of yours?" Nazir yelled. His voice echoed off the walls. There was no reply. "I wonder if she heard me?"

"How could she not? With that _loud mouth_ of yours?" She smiled.

"Oh, shut up."

"You know that's the truth." She put her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, yeah I yell _once _and all of a sudden I'm a hypocrite."

Svenja was about to speak, but then stopped. "Did you hear something?"

"You're hearing things."

"No, really I think I heard the door."

Nazir sat up and twisted to look behind him up into the first room. "I don't see anything." He turned back around, placing his feet back on the stool. "It must be your imagination."

"Or _not_." She snarled as she jumped up from her chair, running towards the stairs. Bewildered, Nazir removed his hands from behind his head and looked up again.

"By the gods-" He got to his feet and followed to where Svenja was now leading Bulmond to a chair. "MADRALE, GET OUT HERE NOW! MADRALE!" There was a split down his armor, blood leaking from the crack, and his left arm hung limp. He smiled slightly, wincing in pain as he sat.

"You're a mess! Blood all over you boy! What happened?"

"There were more men than we first thought. They ambushed us from the forest. I was the decoy you see. You should have seen we take some out with my axe. I think I dropped it on my way here though..."

"We need to get this armor off of you so we can check out these wounds. You don't look so good." Svenja stated, furrowing her eyebrows together as she observed his arm.

"Bulmond, where's Babette?" A weight dropped in Nazir's stomach when the boy gave him a confused look.

"I doubled back so many times- isn't she here already? Did she not make it back? After she killed our  
target, she told me it was time to split and head back to the sanctuary."

Madrale came around the corner, eyes widening when she saw the boy. She looked to Nazir.

"Perhaps she went back to the client to collect the gold." Svenja began removing the top half of his armor.

Nazir shook his head. "She knows these parts, she would have been back here already. I don't have a good feeling about this."

Madrale stepped forward. "I don't have a good feeling about this either. Bulmond, where was this place you were attacked?"

"Once you go past the client's farm, not three stone's throw away from the road once you head onto the dirt path leading towards the south, you go another 10 minutes down that road, and then you go off into the grass a good 5 minutes until you reach an area that is clear with large rocks. The camp was there. Not far from that the forestline starts again, and there's a wider dirt road cleared going northwest."

"Svenja, did you get all of that?' The woman looked up from the boy's wounds.

"Yeah, I've got that."

"Then I order you to go. Go find Babette."

She sighed, then standing to her feet."Alright. I'll straighten this thing out."


	7. Ulam

**A/N: Hello all! Thank you once again for following along with the story, and a big thanks to all my reviewers! Each and every review makes my day brighter! I am currently working on an art project of every DB character in this story. I'll let you know when it's finished for those who are curious: I've just finished Babette after a good 15 hours worth, possibly still going back to touch her up later once I do the other 7. Again, I'll let you know! :)**

-Liliedove

* * *

It was still dark, the sun barely peaking over the horizon. Chilly and crisp as usual, but still quite a bit warmer than the outskirts of Dawnstar. It had been so long since she was last in the land that Svenja forgot how different the weather could be between one hold and another in Skyrim; Cyrodiil was much warmer and uniformed in temperature. Bulmond had said that the farm wasn't far off the road. It wouldn't be long then before she reached it. He could have been clearer about how to get to it however. Less than three stone's throw from a dirt path? There were plenty of dirt paths which she had already passed. However, at least she knew that the location was on the boarder, so it must have been a bit further off still.

What a bother. A beginner's contract couldn't be completed by two members? Had the Dark Brotherhood really fallen so far from its former glory? Then again, most first contracts were less than difficult. She remembered her first contract: there was a woman being stalked by an Argonian, she wanted him dead. A good bullying was a more appropriate punishment, but seeing that it was an Argonian... She didn't mind quite so much. It wasn't as though she hated them, it was simply a matter of association. Being followed by a lovesick puppy of a dangerous man, well that could at least be exciting. But an Argonian? She couldn't blame the girl. To have scaly arms and body come around you as you're on your way home in the evening from low paying labor? No, that was just disgusting.

She slowed when she saw a wide dirt path, almost as wide as the road she had been traveling on. Upon seeing a farm not far in the distance, she knew that this must be the right direction to take. Walking now, she scanned the perimeter. 10 minutes down the road and 5 minutes then off into the grass? What kind of measurement was that? Walking ten minutes, or sprinting 10 minutes?

"Hey, you!" A man approached her. "You're one of those Dark Brotherhood assassins, aren't you? I could tell by your armor. One of your sort that came by the other day was wearing some just like it. A tall lad."

She turned to look at him unblinking. "You must be the client."

He crossed his arms against his chest. "You've got that right, and I'm not a happy one. Those bandits are still out there! Why, I just returned from my brother's farm. They were raided only a few hours ago!"

"And that is my problem, how? I do believe the man you wanted dead is no longer walking among the living."

The man sneered. "Yeah right! Those buffoons couldn't tell their left from their right without the orc's guidance! Bring me his head, then you'll receive your payment. Those are my terms." He strode away back towards his farm. She had half the mind to follow him and give him a reason to show more respect, but she remembered there were more urgent things to deal with.

"Hey, farmer!"

The man glanced back at her nervously. "What is it?"

"Where could I find these bandits?"

He pointed. "Go east from here, past the stream. It's not far from there. Uphill a bit in the roots of the mountain."

* * *

"That beef stick was supposed to be mine! I'm the one who looted it!"

"First come, first serve right? You shouldn't have left it out in the open if you weren't inviting others to take it."

Babette's eyes fluttered open slowly from the sound of voices in the distance. The first thing that hit her was how dry she felt, not in lacking blood but a natural parchment. Then, soreness: it felt as though every muscle in her body had been hammered to a pulp, and then stringed back together again. She propped herself up with an elbow, taking in her surroundings. She cursed when she realized where she was: a prison cell. She was laying in a pile of hay in the corner beside a small table with two chairs. The only source of light in the room was a single lantern hanging on the wall facing her. She wrinkled her nose when the smell of rotting flesh hit her. It must have been at least a day old. She then realized there were two cells, one on either side of hers: One was empty, the other revealed where the stench was coming from. There was a pile of bodies, all men who looked to be either farmers or bandits. Bandits! Memories from the night before flooded back into her mind. She rubbed her temples as she felt a skull cracking headache come on.

"Come on deary, you have your own two feet to walk on so use them! You needn't sob so much! You should be thankful!"

"You handled her too roughly Yvnog. Women are like rabbits, remember? You have to be careful with them or they'll die."

"If she would've just relaxed and not thrown her arms and legs around, screaming about her purity and whatnot, she would have had a good time! A great time! I'm telling you, give it some time and she'll be _begging _for me daily!" Babette watched as they entered the room, a dirty man dragging a sloppily dressed young woman. He unlocked the empty cell beside hers, throwing her inside. "You see here? I'm the only one who's got the key to this cell, so I've got her all to myself!" The woman whimpered, her bruised face stained with tears. She curled up in the space she landed.

The man who came in behind him pointed at Babette. "Hey, the child's up! We should tell Ulam."

The other man looked as well, giving an aggravated sigh. "Yeah I suppose we should... Damn, and I was just itching to play with my little_ rabbit_ for a while longer." They then left the room. Babette looked over at the girl pitifully.

A moment later, the men returned with their leader. Babette froze when the orc stood before her, a red hand print across his face. He smiled, revealing his yellow teeth. "Hello, Sister. It looks as though you finally decided to wake up." She glanced up at his eyes: his sclera were black.

"You're not the orc I sucked dry last night."

"No, I'm not. That was a decoy. We were expecting your lot... I just wasn't expecting a sister to be among them. No matter, I took in precautions since I was the named target. I'm not so foolish as to run into battle with a member of the Dark Brotherhood."

She approached the door. "Why am I here? You should have just killed me. You said that you were expecting us. How did you know we were coming?"

He chuckled. "Slow down there! I'll be the one interrogating you, not the other way around."

"Your a fool if you think you'll get a word out of me. Try all you'd like; I won't budge." She crossed her arms, putting her chin in the air out of defiance.

"May I remind you that I know all of your weaknesses? You're not facing any mere mortal. You're facing me."

"You best respect your elders, _boy_. How long have you been a vampire? five maybe ten years by the look of it?"

The smile was wiped from his face. He bent forward, leaning against the cage bars. "You wouldn't be so cocky if these bars weren't between us. I could easily fix that." He pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, dangling them before her face. He laughed when she bit her lips. "How horrid it must be to be trapped in such a body! You look so puny! If only you could see the look on your face! So _innocent_ , so _sweet!_"

"Actually, it's quite helpful. My _innocence _and _sweetness _is what makes people underestimate me."

"If you say so." He snickered. "Now why don't you be a good girl then and sit at the table. We're going to have a nice talk." Babette gracefully sat at the table as he unlocked the door, her hands folded on top of it. As he sat, he pulled out a canteen, unscrewing the top and filling a cup with water. "Thirsty?"

"I am." She took the cup, swishing it as she sniffed it.

"It's not drugged. This is my own personal supply of water." He took two large gulps from it, he let out a big sigh as he screwed the cap back on. Slowly, she took a sip. "As a brother, I will go easy on you if you cooperate. It'll be for your best interest, really." She glared at him for a moment, then returning to a polite expression as she continued to drink. He grumbled at her defiant attitude. "I think you've been in that body for too long: you still act how you look!"

"Do you have a problem with that?" She retorted.

He ignored the comment. "My proprietor has an interest in the movements of the Dark Brotherhood. They pay well, and I like gold. You will tell me what I need to know, or you'll reap the consequences."

"As if I'd ever give you a word of information!" She hissed. She gasped as something began wrapping around her legs up to her waist. She looked down to find a vine entwining her to the seat. As she moved her legs and grasped it with her hands, it only tightened more.

"That particular chair was made from the remains of a spriggan. I came across it on a wagon raid a few years ago. You see, it's always nice to be situated far enough from a city filled with rich folk to keep them out of your business, but close enough to reap benefits... I received quite a good many things from that particular raid, some of my favorite things in fact. Anyways, I was able to get one of the servants to spit out all the information about the enchanted items they were carrying. Whoever sits in this chair has the ability to activate the magic in the other. It's good for me that you chose that chair, not that you'd even realize the magic abilities of it if you had chosen this chair."

Babette stopped struggling. "You'll have to do more than just tie me up to make me talk."

The orc scowled, standing to his feet with his hands on the table. A shoot from the vine wrapped around her neck. "Listen, I'm getting tired of this! You need to stop acting like a brat and cooperate! I will _break _you, sister or no sister!"

A fresh face came into the room. "Ulam"

"_WHAT IS IT_?" He yelled.

"Sir... Something needs your attention."

"_Oh yeah_? Is it _necessary _enough to interrupt what I'm currently doing?"

"The milkmaid you've been wanting is in your quarters. She's ready for your use."

He paused, then grinning. "Don't get too comfortable, sister. I'll be back later, and I _will _have the answers I'm looking for." He left the cage, locking the door behind him. He turned to the men who had been standing there from the start. "You two needn't stay and watch her, she's not going anywhere." The men nodded, then following him out of the room.

Babette held back the urgent need to scream. The need to release all of her anger, aggravation, and another thing she did not want to admit to anyone; not even herself. She looked around desperately. The vine was no longer around her neck, but its hold on her legs and abdomen was tightening slowly. From the woman, to the table before her, and to the pile of dead men she looked back and forth repeatedly, searching for an answer. It then clicked in her head: the dead men! She twisted around as much as she could to get a better look at them. She looked at the belt of the body slouching over against the bars. A raptured look appeared in her eyes when she spotted the dagger laying against his thigh. She licked her lips as she decided how she would obtain it. Taking in a breath, she wobbled her chair back, making it switch back and forth between each of the back legs.

"Just... a little..._ further..._" She muttered under her breath. With one last step, she leaned the chair up against the bars, attempting to make it descend as slowly as possible with her hands on the bars. She cringed when her head connected with the dead man's. "_Ouch_!"

_Clack! Clack!_

At the sudden sound of foot steps, she gasped, her grip on the bars loosening. Her chair then clattered on the floor.

"_Shhhhh_!"

She looked up, then gapping at the figure who placed a finger against their lips.

"I have never been so glad to see you! _What are you doing here_?" She whispered.

"Bandits have loud mouths; they just run on and ON, NEVER ENDING! And you all complain that Cicero talks too much." The jester approached the door of the cage, crouched near the ground. "Cicero was on his way back from his contract when he heard them...What is the un-child doing bound on the floor, hnm?"

"Oh, you know- just having_ fun_." She huffed.

"Oh! If that's the case, Cicero wouldn't want to interrupt." He smiled, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to leave.

"Hey! _Don't_ just leave me here _you fool_!"

He turned, his grin growing. "Did you really think Cicero would leave his dear sister in a den full of dirty thieves?"

"I wouldn't put it past you." She muttered to herself.

Cicero approached the door again, chin in hand. His eyebrows knitted together, a finger tapping the lock. "Hnm... Might the un-child know where there's a key?"

"The leader of this place has them."

"Ah! Well, Cicero will be back then! What does this leader look like?"

"He's an orc, and a vampire. About three heads taller than you, shorty."

Cicero's lips puckered as the expression on his face froze over. After another moment, he chuckled sheepishly as he rustled through his pockets. "Cicero doesn't particularly like the idea of having his head smashed in by an un-dead orc... Or having his blood sucked up for that matter." Pulling out a lockpick, he put his tongue in a cheek while peering into the dark hole of the lock. "WELL..." he began, turning the lock in his hand. He was then silent.

Babette's heart jumped up into her throat. "What do you mean, _well_?" He simply looked at her, pursing his lips. "CICERO, what did you mean by WELL?"

He gulped, tilting his head slightly. "Cicero isn't quite sure how to say this. The lock, it's rather... difficult. Cicero isn't sure whether or not he'll be able to get it off..."

Her eyes widened as she unconsciously began to struggle again. "You're going to get me out of here, Cicero! If you can't open a lock then- then you can't even call yourself an assassin!"

Cicero quickly put his hands up in surrender, the lock now free and in one of his hands. "Calm, sister, calm! Cicero was only joking!" He then started to laugh. "Oh, but you should have seen your face! So terrified!"

"You better shut up!" She growled.

"Alright, alright." He swung the door open, then crouching beside her. "Really, what's the un-child doing all bound up on the ground?" He pulled out his dagger, sliding it under one of the loops of the vine. He hmned, a confused look on his face when it refused to budge. "It... doesn't want to cut!"

Babette sighed in dismay. "It's enchanted. I don't know if you'll be able to cut it."

"Ah!" The vine snapped, the living part recoiling back into the seat of the chair. He grinned at her. "You were saying?"

Pulling the cut part off her body, she stood up and brushed herself off."Let's just get out of here when we can... We're supposed to kill the orc, Ulam, but I don't think we are prepared for someone like him. At least, I'm not. I don't know about you."

"WHO are _you_?" They both looked toward the opening of the room. One of the men returned, hand on hilt. In a split second Cicero pulled out his dagger again, it's blade now sticking through the back of the man's neck. The man coughed, blood spattering on Cicero's face and chest.

"Good_bye_." Cicero whispered, twinkling his fingers in a wave as the man fell to the ground, struggling for breath. Cicero put a foot on the man's chest, pulling out his dagger. "Yes, Cicero agrees that it's a good time to go now."

"Cicero!" Babette gasped.

A painful gasp was released. Cicero turned to look behind him, a man now paralyzed on the floor with blood draining from his lower spine. Svenja pulled the cowl from her mouth as she sheathed her short sword on the belt secured on her back. "Well, isn't this quite the family reunion."

"What is Svenja doing here?" Cicero said with a frown.

"I could ask you the same. I was sent to find Babette."

"Well don't I feel special." Babette said as she looked between them.

Svenja turned to Babette. "Did you kill your target?"

"I'm afraid not. It was a decoy: the real target is still alive, and he's a vampire like myself. He was trying to interrogate me, but then he got distracted by a milkmaid. I wouldn't be surprised if he's still ravishing her now. She'll probably come out looking worse that that poor creature." She pointed at the cell beside her's with her thumb.

Svenja looked at the woman."What a pitiful creature..." She faced them again. "I've taken care of most of the scum walking through this cave, but there's still more left. Cicero, escort Babette back to the sanctuary. She needs to get there as soon as possible so the Family's fears can be put to rest about her whereabouts. I'll finish off the leader and collect the pay from the client."

Cicero frowned. "Cicero could finish them off!"

Babette put a hand on his arm. "C'mon Cicero, Svenja is right. Let her take care of them, I don't want Madrale and Nazir to worry any longer."

Cicero looked down at her, biting his lip. He then whined before letting out a huff. "Fine then! We'll see you back at the sanctuary,_ sister._"

Svenja nodded her head, leading the procession until Cicero and Babette ran for the entrance. She pulled the mask back over her face, crouching as she made her way to the back corner of the cave. And what a smelly cave it was: men, especially rogue bandits, lived like trolls. Bottles left lying around, dry dripped liquor stains on the walls, not to mention the smell of piss. What disgusting beasts!  
A man and a mer sat in chairs outside of a closed off room. The sounds of the girl's struggles could be heard from down the hall. Svenja took the bow from her back, slowly drawing an arrow against the tight string.

"Sounds like he's having fun in there." The man said.

"I prefer nord women myself." The mer replied. "Do you think he'll share her with us once he's done?"

"You're kidding right?" He sneered. "Once he's satisfied he'll suck her dry! A pity really, such a pretty little thing... Though I suppose she won't be after this. I'd prefer he feed on her than me any day though. Say, do you want to go hunt for some women once we're off duty? See who can sleep with the most in one night? Sounds good to me, it's been a long time since I've had me some soft flesh."

The mer chuckled. "Sounds like a plan!"

Svenja gave a disgusted look as she aimed at the man's head, releasing the arrow.

_Thwunk! _

She smiled: a perfect hit for a perfect demise. The mer froze in shock, then glancing around. She smiled more: he didn't say a word, likely because he was so terrified at how his leader would react if he had to be interrupted. His fear would be his demise, for as she loosed another arrow he clutched his chest, folding over. "One more should do the trick for this swine." She said under her breath.

Pathetic bandits with worn out armor, likely stolen years ago from old warriors or young ones with hand-me-downs traveling on the road alone. Sickening creatures, taking advantage of the powerless just for fun. There were many things she hated, but nothing beat a male with the heart of a beast. Beasts had no mind, no civil thoughts: they were unpredictable. Or perhaps, too predictable. Give a beast time, and the meekest of them could turn on you, snap at you, even if you were the one to feed it it's whole life. Once a thing is wild, it always will be wild no matter how hard one tries to chase that out of it. It was a fact. These weren't men, these were beasts; just like the rest of them. Wild, deceptive, manipulating! She felt her blood boil as she approached the room. The man moaned on the ground. She pulled out her sword, giving him a quick, deep jab in the abdomen, twisting it as she pulled it out again.

"Eighteen down, one more beast to go: that'll make nineteen, my lucky number." She strode towards the door, opening it slowly. It creaked, but it seemed that the beast didn't hear a sound. If he were intelligent, if he were civil, he would have heard. But he didn't, he was too busy attacking his prey. She hovered over, right beside the two figures. The woman saw her, but she was too stricken in horror to have any sort of proper reaction.

Svenja lifted the sword, bringing it down with both hands. She stabbed him through the back, and through the heart, only shallow enough to evade the girl. The orc made a noise as if he were confused. She pulled it half way out, and then back in again repeatedly; he was the worst of them all! He then sunk down, still on the hysterical woman. Svenja turned him over on his back.

"Congratulations, you were his last victim and aided in his death. He could have been quite the problem if you weren't such a distraction... And if he weren't naked. " The woman stared up at her, shaking still. "I've killed the others, you needn't worry. Put some clothing on, and be on your way. Do you understand me?"

She nodded her head violently, quickly crawling off the bed and over into a corner where an old dress lay crumpled on the floor. Svenja began surveying the room. The orc's armor and clothing lay near the door. She picked through them, not finding much. She walked over to a desk, pulling open all of the drawers and turning them over. A pile of letters fluttered onto the floor. She flipped through them in her hands, most being worthless scribbles. Her eyes enlarged at the sight of a white envelope,with a large wax stamp.

"That seal!" She pulled the letter out, reading it.

_...Make no mistake, your lot are an eyesore to behold, and violate the law. _

_However, you will be tolerated if you accept my offer. _

_You will be visited by none other than the Dark Brotherhood. They are an organization of illegal assassins who take on contracts of murder. Their target will be you, Ulam Gro-Ntash. _

_I need information about their whereabouts, how many there are, who their leader is, their backgrounds, and any other information you can gather. The more information you supply, and if that information is valid, the more you will be paid._

_Our starting price is 3000 septims._

_If you refuse this generous offer, the Imperial army will be sent out to destroy every last one of you and your men..." _

She read it over again, frowning. Something was off. "This signature is understandable, but this seal? That is... Interesting." She pocketed it. She then saw a ring of keys on the floor. Picking them up, she walked over to the woman and handed them to her.

"Listen, there's another girl who was abused like you. Take a right once you leave this hall, keep going, and you should find her in one of the cages. You might even know her, she looks recent." The girl shook her head, then looking down at the ground, her arms wrapped around her chest as she walked out of the room.

Svenja turned back to the orc. "Disgusting, disgusting beast. I'll claim your head. Sadly it's not mine to keep, or I'd stick it on a platter."

* * *

Bulmond moaned as he woke, greeted by the warm light of candles. He was in his bed. His soft, warm, _wonderful_ bed! He yawned, then noticing a figure sitting on the edge of the bed beside his. He crooked his head the the side, smiling faintly. "Well hello there Mariella, what could I do for you this fine morning?"

The breton sat with her hands folded in her lap; a prim and proper lady, he thought. Her hair was always neat and tidy, braided back from the sides of her face, only long and loose on her back. Nice, though he preferred something more... wild, free. "Actually, it's almost evening now. I thought I'd bring you some soup." She pointed at the bowl and spoon set on the end table.

"Oh... Well, thanks I guess. Nothing better than the good old _mystery_ soup, huh?" He laughed, then cringing. She simply nodded her head.

"That was a rough first mission, wasn't it? Mine wasn't quite like that."

"You think?" He smiled briefly. "It wasn't quite what I thought I was signing up for. Anyway, what's been happening since I've been asleep?"

"Not much. Svenja went out after Babette, and Cicero isn't back yet. Nazir hasn't said much, but I can see that he's very worried for her safety. The Listener on the other hand... It's hard to read her. She doesn't display much emotion at all, I suppose that makes her the perfect assassin then? She's been waiting at the door all day though, waiting for someone to return."

Bulmond propped himself up on an elbow. "That means Babette is not back, huh? I hope she's alright... I'm glad it's Svenja that was sent out to find her though: she'd be the one to find her. She's quite an amazing woman." Mariella looked at him blank of expression. After receiving no response, he continued. "She's quite the fighter, Babette I mean. At least, for such a little girl." He laughed, then putting a hand on his chest in pain.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Didn't you get treated when you got here?"

He shook his head. "Yeah, the Listener did this glowy thing on me but it didn't to too much. It stopped the bleeding and closed it up a little, but it seems it isn't doing too well with me laughing, huh? The Listener even said that she wasn't particularly good in that healing school or whatever. I'm telling you, magic gives me the creeps but it sure can be useful sometimes!"

She gave him a small smile. "You wouldn't mind me healing you then do you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You can do that?" She placed a hand on his chest. Bulmond's mouth hung open in awe as the pain began to fade away. "I would have never guessed you were a mage! Why don't you wear robes like the Listener?"

Her cheeks turned red as she looked away. "I'm not a mage! I just... Know a bit of restoration and illusion."

"Yeah, _just _a _bit. _I feel GREAT! Besides, that paint on your face makes me think of a mage. It all fits together!"

"I told you, I'm not a mage!" She growled.

Bulmond put his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay I didn't mean to offend you! Say, why is it that your tan is nearly the color of your hair: did you work outside a lot? I mean, it's not that dark but most people from Skyrim are pretty pale."

"No, I didn't work outside. My skin is naturally darker than yours, I'm from High Rock originally. Besides, it's barely darker than yours, I don't see why you even took notice."

He shrugged. "It's something boys do I guess. I was just curious is all, you're a lot darker than the women who live on our farm back home..." He trailed off, a haunted look on his face. "Mariella, why exactly where you recruited?"

She stood to her feet, making her way to the door, turning before stepping out. "Honestly, I don't know."

* * *

Cicero marched as they walked towards the sanctuary. Babette released a sigh of relief: it was good to be home. Cicero came up beside her, grinning. "Are you happy to be home again? Babette must have thought she'd never see it again! Ah, needn't worry, you have the Family to help you!"

"Of course! I never thought my Family would abandon me!" She declared.

"Ah, home again before the sun has set! It's nice, no? It should be just about time for dinner! I'm sure they'll all want to hear about your adventure, hnm? Just be sure to mention the parts about _Cicero_." He said smugly, pointing to himself.

"Sure thing." She said with a grin. She waited as Cicero activated the door; the sound of it trudging open was like music to her ears.

"We're home! We're safe, we're home!" Cicero shouted merrily as they walked through the hall. His smile widened when he saw the Listener stand from the table in the first room. "Listener!' He exclaimed. "We're home, and we're safe!"

She strode towards them, a serious look etched in stone on her face. "Babette!" She exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Babette rubbed her arm. "Yeah, I'm alright. How's the kid? Did he make it back alright?"

"Yes..." She was hesitant. "He got here, that's how we knew that you were in trouble. I can't say much for his arm though. I did what I could for him, which wasn't much. I didn't have the key to your potions chest. He's resting in bed now." She then turned to Cicero, who grinned stupidly at gaining her attention. He already knew what she was about to ask.

"Cicero figured out something was a miss on the way back from his contract! Which, was fulfilled with _bonuses_. Cicero walked a ways with Bulmond and Babette on the way, so when bandits started talking about a run in with the Dark Brotherhood near the place we parted ways..."

"Did you run in to Svenja? I sent her out to find Babette." She crossed her arms against her chest.

"Oh yes! Yes... Svenja came. She stayed back to take care of the... details of the contract. Said it was best to send Babette back as soon as possible to make you stop worrying."

She let out a deep sigh. "Well, thank you for your help, Cicero. You two should rest up now. It's been a long couple of days for the both of you. There's the usual slop in the pot, and we've got some fresh fruit out."

"Oohhh!" Cicero squealed. "Yes, let's go and eat!" He pulled Babette by the arm down the stairs. He frowned, climbing the stairs again when he noticed Madrale was not behind them. "Uh, Listener?"

She glanced back at him, remaining where she stood. "Yes?"

"Listener, come join us! You must be hungry!"

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks, but no thanks. Go on, I'll come down when I'm ready."

His shoulders slouched. He had been so excited at the thought of being able to tell her all about the past two days over dinner when he realized they'd return in time. "Alright then, just don't forget to eat."

The Listener was still standing in the first room when Svenja returned later that evening. Svenja greeted her shortly as she passed, placing a bag of coins on the small table. The Listener pulled her around by the shoulder.

"Svenja, what was the situation?"

She tried turning around again towards the dining room. "Can't I eat supper first? I haven't eaten a morsel since I left in the early hours this morning."

"No." The look on the Listener's face was stern.

Svenja turned the rest of the way around, putting her hands on her hips as she pulled her mask under her chin. The only evidence of her displeasure was a faint look in her eyes."It seems that they never killed their target. The one Babette killed was a decoy. I ran into the client on the way to finding her, and he wasn't particularly happy. Said that the bandits went on a raid this morning, and refused to pay unless I brought him the orc's head. I killed all the bandits in the cave, including the orc. When I reached Babette Cicero had already set her free, and they were on their way to escaping."

"Bulmond told me that the client wanted all of the bandits dead as well. Were there any survivors outside of the cave?"

"Yes, there were."

"Then_ why _didn't you kill them _too_?" The Listener's voice was level, but Svenja could feel the rage pulsing from her body like a stench.

"You sent me out to find Babette, _not _take on her _contract_. Look,_ I _killed the bandits in the cave, _I_ made sure Cicero and Babette could exit in safety, and _I_ killed the prime target. I can't see how you were expecting me to do anymore than that. I'd say I did more than expected in the first place! If I had taken any more time than I did, I don't think that man would have ever paid up!"

The Listener let out a small sigh, thinking for a moment. She then walked towards the door without giving another glance. "You're _dismissed, _Svenja."


	8. Problems Addressed

**A/N: **Hello all. As an update, I probably won't be able to update on time next week due to travel.  
Again, those who review: I LOVE YOU. YOU BRIGHTEN MY DAY SO MUCH. The rest of you... Well I hope you are following along each week (as shown by a consistent view/visitor rate of about 120 views, 50 visitors every update day) because you really enjoy it. Because I have no clue what your guys thoughts are. Just putting that out there.  
As a note, when things seem to be off schedule check my profile page to see if I have something addressing that.

-Liliedove

* * *

It was dark. Alberno Valerini still felt uneasy about the deal he had made. Would it come back to haunt him? He felt the full pouch of septims dangling from his belt: it would be enough to buy the new ox he needed for plowing the fields, as well as new clothing for his wife and children. Maybe he could even get a new pair of boots. He looked at his family who sat around the fire, silently. They were safe and warm, and that's all that mattered. That orc was gone at least, even if the other bandits were running around. They told him to have them all killed, but at least he got to keep the extra gold that would have been used as compensation for the extra kills as well. His wife looked back at him solemnly. He knew that look. Was she really that disappointed in his acceptance of the offer? Wasn't the gold just what they needed? Who was to say they would reap any consequences?

"Pa, do you hear that?" His daughter was perched on a chair by the window.

"Hear what darling?"

"Don't you hear it? The horse!" She squinted as she looked out the window into the utter darkness.

"It must be a traveler on the road, Deary. Never mind that. Sit back by the fire where it is warm."

After another moment she slipped away from the window, fidgeting as she returned to her mother. "Pa I think someone's out there."

He furrowed his brow. "You must be imagining things. Don't worry, the orc is gone." The girl curled up in her mother's arms. The mother anxiously looked over at the window. He didn't like the atmosphere in the room. It was too quiet. It made him uneasy. His wife looked at him again.

"Aye, the orc may be gone but all of those bandits are still running around out there. What if they find out that it was us? What will happen? To our son? Our daughters? What of me, and the farm?"

He hated that look of disappointment on her face. He grew aggravated in the deathly silence. "Muriel, everything will be fine. Have I ever given you reason to not trust my judgment?"

"Not until now, no you haven't."

He walked over to her, taking one of her hands in his. "Then please, trust me on this. We need the gold. We've talked about this before." She looked down at her child. He approached the window, placing a hand on top of the windowsill.

Two lanterns hung outside: one above the door, and another a short distance away on the stable wall. Both cast a small circle of light beneath them. Everything was still. It felt almost eerie. It must be his imagination. Too much dealings with dark things. It had been giving him nightmares. The black sacrament, his family's reluctance to take the offer given to them, the raids on the other farms during the past few days. It was getting to his head. All of their heads. Why wouldn't it? Some fear is healthy, it kept one alive. He simply had to reduce it's influence, they were all just over reacting. He scanned the horizon, looking from the fields of crop to the barn and to the front gate again. It was a calm night. A nice one. As he was about to turn away from the window, he saw something moving. His heart stopped, and then slowly returned to a normal pace: it was just the old cow. She stared at him, sticking her head over the fence.

"There's nothing out there. We're fine." He sat next to the fire, warming his hands. His daughter perked her head up again, scampering off her mother's lap and back to the window. "Helda, the only thing out there you'll see is old Greta." He watched as she continued to stare out into the dark. He didn't like that. Something still made him uneasy.

"Helda, why don't you come away from the window now? Get me your reading books. I'd like you to read to me." Her mother called softly. Helda left the window. He watched as she pulled a book off of the shelf. She climbed up into her mother's lap, opening to where the book was last marked. She held it in both hands, her eyes roaming the page.

He returned to the window.

"Mother, mother, where's my father? Said the little boy to a maid.

Father is not here today. Says mother to the little boy. Father won't come any day.

Mother, mother, why is my father not here today? Why won't father come any day?

Father is not a man I know. Where he lays now the grass does grow. Said mother to the little boy."

"Very good." Her mother said gently.

"Your reading is improving, Helda." He said as he stared out at the yard. He could feel her smile as she continued to read.

"Mother, mother, where is it? The place where my father lays? The place where the grass does grow? Says the little boy to the maid.

Father died so long ago. Father's head was never found. The place he lays is underground. Said mother to the little boy.

Mother, mother, will I some day? Will I see where my father does lay? Says the little boy to the maid."

He held his breath. Something was stirring. Something was moving, but out of sight. The circles of light, they did not reach.

"I told you once, I'll tell you twice, father's head has been eaten by mice. There will be no finding of his head to satisfy this great entice."

As he stared longer out into the darkness, he saw a figure. Moving, back and forth. Darker than the darkest dark of night. Back and forth it went, carrying something, and then placing it. Carrying, and placing. Back and forth, all in a row.

"There is a body, but there is no head. Said mother to the little boy. We had dug the body's bed, but never have we found the missing head."

The figure drew nearer and nearer. Nearer and nearer, never farther away. It approached, surely it approached. It approached the circle of light, moving back and forth, carrying something and then placing it. So many, all lined in a row. A neat little row.

"But have no fear, my little boy. Your father was a liar. Your father was a thief. I did not know your father, he only gave me grief."

"By the gods!" They turned their attention to their father. He stood ridged and still.

It came into the circle of light. One by one, moving back and forth, carrying and placing. So many, all lined in a row. A neat little row. It then stood still, stood as still as he standing behind the windowsill.

It saw him there. Stared him down. Dark, and eminent.

"What is it, Alberno?" His wife said in a hushed, fearful tone.

The figure stood and beckoned him. Through its hood its eyes did glint. The eyes of a killer who has caught its prey. Right on his lawn their heads did lay. It beckoned him, and he couldn't refuse. There was no other option to choose.

"Muriel, children. Stay where you are."

"What are you doing, husband?" She whispered frantically.

"And make sure no one looks out the window." He opened the front door, closing it firmly behind him.

"By the gods." He said under his breath.

The hooded figure approached, revealed by the circle of light. Robes of red and black. Not a speck of blood staining it darker. He could not see its face.

"You were unhappy with our services?" Its voice was deep, and coarse like wool. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

"You, you're..." He became lost of words.

"We go to the void and back for those who pray patronage to our Mother. No word of your request is left unturned."

He stared at the faces on his lawn.

"I see that..." He could think of nothing else to say.

"You needn't pay for the bonus. This favor is on the Family. For your troubles. It will not happen again."

He watched, paralyzed, as the figure turned to leave. It mounted the horse Helda had heard. It's eyes blazed red, as the figure he dread. It turned and left, but his emotions were still cleft. From the heads to his family, his thoughts did tread. He then decided he needed some rest: his head felt as heavy as lead.

* * *

Nazir watched as Svenja silently slipped into her usual seat at the table. He couldn't quite read her. Bulmond's usual seat beside hers was still empty. The breton woman, Mariella Dunane, sat beside him. Still a quiet one. Babette sat on the other side of her on the end where Madrale often sat, Cicero sitting across from her. She ate quietly, as she often did. The silence given by everyone else however, wasn't normal. Even when Madrale was gone, Cicero was never this quiet. The reason was obvious, and it had been itching at him for the past few days. He leaned his arms against the table.

"So Svenja."

She looked up dully from her food. "Yes, Nazir?"

He glanced at the others, who returned the gaze."I think we've all been wondering what happened between you and Madrale the other night. What did you say to her that made her storm off like that?" Everyone at the table then stared at her, anticipating an answer: no one had any idea what caused the Listener to leave so suddenly. All they knew was that she had been waiting for Svenja to arrive, and then she was gone. Svenja threw her hands in the air, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"What did_ I _say? I didn't do anything!" She looked at the disbelief written over their faces. "She was the one acting like a cat sitting in a bucket of cold water, not me. All I did was give her my report when she asked for it. I did my duty, but apparently it wasn't good enough for her. I think she was upset that I didn't fulfill the bonus of the contract." She poked at her food. The others listened attentively, but didn't contribute to the conversation.

"I don't know, she seemed pretty ticked. It's been a long time since I've seen her like that, and it was only once before. She's someone who's hard to push over the edge." Nazir shook his head and continued eating.

"I'm telling the truth! I didn't _do _anything but listen to directions! I don't know what her problem is, but I did more than I was already told to do. I have nothing to be ashamed of." She huffed, taking a sip of her water.

Mariella nodded her head in agreement. "I mean no disrespect towards the Listener, but Svenja does have a point. Besides, she seemed rather irritated all day, even if she is hard to read. She probably just went over the edge when she heard that strings had been left untied. Everyone was concerned for Babette's safety as well. As a leader she has the pressure of her safety on her shoulders."

Svenja pointed her fork at her. "Yes, you're absolutely right! But strings weren't left untied, the contract was for the orc's head and I delivered that! I also killed all of the bandits in that cave! That's already more than they were initially paying for. The rest of those bastard-making monsters were not a part of the contract. They were really not any official part of our business. And we all know that." She glared at Nazir.

Nazir put his hands up, a look of amusement on his face. "No one was saying you didn't do your job! No need to get up in arms."

"Oh, but I do! Do you think I don't realize it?" The fire in her eyes began to grow at his patronization.

"Realize what?" Babette questioned.

"Don't pretend, I can see past your masks! You've been set against me ever since I got here. You say you want to expand the family, but I can see the truth! You just want to play your own little game of house: you, that clown, the vampire, and the _Listener _you all adore!"

"How rude!' How disrespectful! To SUGGEST such things!" Cicero a fire began growing in his own eyes.

"No, you will not interrupt me, _Keeper_! I'm not finished, and I'm sick of being treated like a second-rate citizen in this family!" She looked at Mariella. "Wait, just you wait and see! Right now you're new, fresh off the streets. You can't expect anything right now, you don't know how things are supposed to be around here. It wasn't like this before, you know. Not when Astrid was the leader. I could respect her and the others, because they respected me. But you?" She looked at Nazir. "You and your _special _party of four don't like the thought of anyone else having a say. You've looked at me with distaste, trying to pull wool over my eyes, pretending nothing is _amiss._ I'm not stupid. You wait, trying to gain reason to hate me, to have a reason to ignore anything I say."

Nazir gave her a disgruntled look, only staring back at her. She stood to her feet, raising her lip. "The disgusting part of this is that it's all true. Your silence confirms it. Some_ Family_. Can a woman trust anyone these days?"

"Only if you can prove yourself trustworthy." Nazir glared at her, his arms crossed. Babette watched, rather amused. Cicero's attention was drawn back to his food when Svenja turned to walk away stiffly, chin in the air.

"Looks like SOMEONE is a_ grouchy hagraven _today." Cicero said lightly as he plunged the fork into his mouth.

"I heard that!" She yelled.

Cicero smiled to himself, chuckling. "That was a good one!"

Mariella looked between the faces still seated at the table. "You know..." She hesitated briefly, questioning if she should speak her thoughts. "Wouldn't it be good to... Give her a chance? Give her the benefit of the doubt?"

Nazir chortled as he leaned back in his seat. "Mariella, my dear. TRUST ME on this one. Svenja has had the benefit of the doubt for far too long. She's barely worth more than her trouble! Granted, she's a good assassin, but she wouldn't be my choice of someone I could confine in."

* * *

Babette studied the scar that ran down Bulmond's back. She lightly touched it. He looked over his shoulder at her out of curiosity. She pushed his head forward again. He sighed. She then stood, scooting off the bed and walking over to one of her chests.

"Well, you're not going to bleed out. It's pretty solid now. You said Mariella cast a healing spell on you?"

He grinned."Yes, she did! It was amazing! I could feel the pain just vanish! Makes me almost want to try some magic myself!"

She glanced back at him, picking up vials one by one, identifying them. "Magic is a curious thing... Well, I don't have the best news to give. The pain might be gone, but..." She paused when she saw someone standing in her doorway out of the corner of her eye. "Oh! Madrale, you're back."

The Listener entered the room. "I had business to take care of. It needed to be done."

"I'm assuming you took care of the other bandits?"

She nodded her head, then studying Bulmond. "I came by to see how the boy was doing."

Bulmond froze when he realized the Listener was looking at him. He became nervous, fidgeting where he sat on the stone bed. "I'm fine, really! No need for the Listener to worry about me! Mariella healed me, so I'm fine." He gave a toothy smile.

"Mariella is the other recruit." Babette said answering the look the Listener gave her. "As I was saying, Bulmond, the pain and the initial danger may be gone, but you're not alright."

He held back his full reaction to the news due to the presence of the Listener in the room. The last thing he wanted was for the Listener to treat him like a child. He had to prove his manhood. "What do you mean by that? What's wrong?"

"Mariella's spell was quite powerful. I would have never guessed she could cast a spell like that, and it could become a great help for us in the future. However, your arm... It wasn't healed right. Your cartilage will eventually wear thin on that arm of yours, not to mention that you won't be able to do much with it accurately. You're quite lucky that it was your left shoulder and not your right." Bulmond looked confused, not quite understanding what she was saying.

"Couldn't we just break it and reset it again properly?" The listener pulled a chair up from the corner of the room, sitting next to him to get a better look.

"Right now? No, I don't want to disrupt his other wound." She sighed, giving a demonstration of his arm movements while pinpointing his chest injuries with her other hand. "I don't know when it'll be safe to perform any operation, and I don't want to be responsible for his death. He may be better off adjusting to the injury. For now, I'll prescribe him one of my potions." She presented a bottle to Bulmond who then took it in his hand, looking it over. "It should help delay damage in his arm for a time."

"I just need to drink this, huh? Sounds simple enough. I'll be back to normal in no time, right?"

"That should continue to kill the pain in your arm, so you could use it... With great limitations. Now remember Bulmond, and don't forget what I'm about to say: you need to be careful with that arm, even though it'll feel fine. You'll end up completely destroying it if you don't, and it will become useless. You need to be very cautious with that arm." He was silent. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I understand. " He said slowly, looking from Babette to the Listener. "Are we... Done here then?"

Babette waved him off as she returned to her chest. "Yeah, go ahead. Get something to eat, you need it."

The Listener grunted when she saw the full extent of the scar trailing down his back. "I'm going to make my rounds in Dawnstar, just in case people are wondering where I'm going. I should be back soon."

Bulmond slipped his tunic back on over his head. As he stood to leave, his eyes brightened when he saw a figure standing in the doorway. "Svenja! Come to check up on me, have you?" He winked at her.

Svenja looked as though she were about to leave. Pausing, she leaned against the doorpost. "It seems like you'll be okay. You can tough it out, I'm sure." She smiled, making him turn his head away as he attempted to hold back a blush.

"You're still just a little boy." Babette said under her breath when she saw his face. Apparently he didn't hear her.

"You bet! Just wait and see, I'll be completely better before you know it!" He swung his left arm across his chest.

"Listen Master Muscles, do I need to remind you of what I just said?"Babette said as she rolled her eyes.

"Give the boy a break, he's doing well. Anyways, I'll be going now. Get better soon, Bulmond." Svenja then left as quickly as she had appeared. Bulmond's expression had dimmed when he heard the term she used to describe him. Standing herself, the Listener made for the door.

"I'll be off as well now. I'll be off my biweekly schedule if I don't get out there soon. Some of those merchants depend on me, you know?"

"Yep. They're not good enough to make the things you do. Though of course, if I started selling things I'm sure my products would win over yours." She smiled as Madrale ticked her tongue. "I guess I'll be see you at supper then?" Babette said over her shoulder as she reorganized her chest of potions.

"I should be there. Don't worry, I won't be disappearing again soon." She chuckled.

* * *

Svenja sat in the archery range. Nothing seemed to be going her way. At least, not with the Family. Try as she might, she doubt she'd ever fit in. She would be treated like a new recruit, despite her years of service to the brotherhood. Why she bothered to return, she'd never quite figure out. Well, no. There weren't many other options...

She heard someone walking past her. Ah, the Listener, all _dressed up_ to go into town as if she were a local. The great, almighty Listener! A dark elf. A dark elf that could not be easily read. Mariella had said the same about her, that she was difficult to read. She didn't like that. She couldn't trust that. No, not with how those four cluttered up like chicks hiding under a hen's wings, seeing all others as ducklings who didn't quite belong. If they couldn't respect her, she sure wouldn't give a damn ounce of respect to them. Who knows whether or not she got a fair cut from her contracts. It was definitely lower than it had been years ago. Who knew if it was due to the economy or due to a taxation. The Listener certainly lived a cozy life. Babette wasn't quite as bad as the others, but she knew her stance belonged with them. Nazir, now he was the worst. One moment you thought he was lightening up, but the next you realized how much of a fool you were for even thinking that was a possibility. Perhaps Bulmond and Mariella would listen. Perhaps if they listened, the others would see reason in what she said. Listener though she may be, the dark elf seemed to always be hiding something. Perhaps she wasn't as mighty as she appeared to be. Perhaps she wasn't as perfect as they would like to believe her to be. Perhaps... Perhaps if they were to discover her dirt, they wouldn't simply assume things were always her fault.

She looked around. The Listener must have been half way out the door already. Now was as good a chance as ever to do some research on their _beloved_ Listener. She sneaked into the back hall, quietly peeking at Babette who was still bent over her potions in the room. The opposing room was empty: everyone else must have been in the dining room. Cautiously, she passed, then inching the door to the Listener's quarters open. She had never actually ventured in that room, and wondered why she hadn't up to this point. Perhaps it was the speck of respect she still contained for the Listener, but now that they were all against her she had to go to extremes. No more common courtesy.

It was fairly bare. Granted, one side of the room was lined with bookshelves, stacked high with scrolls. Those must have been the things she spent hours bent over in seclusion. Would any of them contain information on her?

Better to search the whole room before going through any of that; it would take far too long to go through those with the amount of time she had. Though, she did have plenty of time. Chances were that she'd be out in the market for another three hours. She sneaked up to the chest at the end of the bed. She picked up the lock, observing it. It was difficult, but not too difficult to deal with. After fiddling with it for another minute, it snapped off, a smile spreading across her face. It fell when she opened the chest. What was this... junk? She gently moved each item: a bottle of aged wine, a few alchemy reagents, a few bounty notes, a sack of gold, and a copy of a deed to a house in Riften. Some things were rather interesting, but nothing hinted towards anything suspicious. Disappointed, she closed the chest, replacing the lock. She checked the shelves around her bed. No luck there either; she covered her tracks well. A thought then occurred to her. Getting on her hands and knees, she peered under the bed. A smile spread across her face. She carefully pulled out a medium sized chest. The lock needed a key... Glancing around, she stood and began searching again. It couldn't be far, unless she kept it on her body. But who would bother around here? She climbed the shelves, running her hand along the tops of them. She paused, then plucking a ring of keys. One by one, she compared the keys to the lock, tampering with them. "Ah!" She exclaimed when the right key fit. It made a hearty click as the lock slid off. She lifted the lid, her eyes glittering at the contents."Jackpot."

* * *

Madrale Walked through the streets of Dawnstar. Not much could be found in the capital city; it certainly wasn't anything like Solitude, or even Riften for that matter. No towering homes, no crowds, no great vegetation: not even a ray of warmth to revive the bones. Maybe it was because of the elevation that no one ventured or decided to stay in the small settlement once they discovered it. That made it rather perfect, in reality. No need to feel too pressured about people discovering the door amongst the rocks at the foot of the mountain. In truth, the door had always been known to those who lived in the area. Whether they were adventuring as children, or just taking a walk: talk to the locals, and you will hear of a strange, black door. As she recalled, she was told about it before she had ever been recruited into the Dark Brotherhood. She doubted many people knew what the door was for, though. At least, none of them gave off a single hint that they had any idea what it could be used for. Again, it was possible that the common folk simply wanted to stay out of any trouble. Some ventured to mention its obvious current state of use, as she heard through the vine while doing her usual rounds with the local merchants. It didn't seem like the Jarl cared much, if at all that something strange was occurring right under his nose. He probably knew that a Dark Brotherhood sanctuary stood there, and with that knowledge, saw it as another way to make the Empire anxious. Judging by his strong stance in the war, housing the organization that assassinated the Emperor, the symbol of his opposition, would more likely be viewed as something to be prideful over . But who knew how long it would be safe to remain there: the Imperials have been holding the upper hand for quite some time now. Where would they go if they were attacked, their whereabouts discovered again? The magic in the door would only hold for so long under an attack. They certainly didn't need a code when Maro's men marched into the Falkreath Sanctuary only months before. With the Imperial army stepping on their tail, one couldn't be too cautious. Not to mention the curiosity of Maven Black-Briar: nothing could be put past her. Do anything she did not like, and any and all agreements made with her could be broken. She served one thing and one thing only: herself.

"Oh, it's you! Come to do your rounds again, ae?" It was one of the male guards patrolling the grounds. She didn't recognize him as an individual, but of course that was due to the helmet that covered his entire face. The one problem she always had since coming to Skyrim was detecting the differentiation between all of their voices. They all sounded the same to her, even after living there for over thirty years. At least she learned how to understand their dialects.

"That I am. I come around here almost every other Tirdas, I thought you'd have figured that out by now!" She laughed softly. The guarded reciprocated the gesture, then looking at the box she strapped to her back, covered with a wolf hide.

"I take it you keep your goods in there. Why do you hide it?"

"Hide it? Why, I'm keeping it warm!" She lifted a corner of the pelt. "Don't need my potions freezing on me."

He fidgeted out if embarrassment. "Ah! Oh, yes of course! What I meant to say was, better keep it covered up so no one up to no good gets tempted! Not that there are thieves in my city, no ma'am there be no thieves in Dawnstar! By Talos, I can assure you of that!"

"Don't worry, I trust you." She had a glint in her eyes. "Are you enjoying your rounds?"

"I suppose you could say that." He grumbled. "Why do you keep coming back here, anyways? Not many people like it around here. Though I suppose you're used to this sort of weather, seeing that you're from that college in Winterhold all the prestige wizards go to. Still, that's a long travel!"

"I travel all over Skyrim. I just particularly like the solitude around here. Too many people makes me anxious."

"I see what you mean. I feel the same way." He looked around, then seeing someone who made him become frantic. "Listen, I better get going before someone catches me talking and not moving. Wouldn't be good to lose my job, right?" He chuckled. "I hope you stay safe. Skyrim is dangerous these days, especially in these cold parts. If it's not a thief or a wild beast, old man mountain will gobble you up with is wrath."

As he walked away, Madrale shifted the box on her back. She certainly didn't have anything to hide on these trips. They all thought her innocent of any wrong doing. Though perhaps in their minds she wasn't truly guilty of anything bad at all. Who wasn't zealous about the war? Why, if they knew she was the one who murdered the Emperor, they'd likely hail her as their hero! She shifted the box again: her load was still burdensome. It was high time she stopped at the smithy to be rid of the heavy things.

"Hey, you! In the mage robes!"

She turned, a man then approaching her. Judging by his attire, not to mention the bundle of letters he held under his arms, he must have been the courier.

"I believe you have another letter from Riften. I was told to deliver to your hands _only_. No, really: the woman threatened to cut off a foot if I didn't. Not that she would ever truly know, but... Here's your letter." He thrust it into her hands.

"Thank you."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I better be on my way now. I have much too much to do to stand around and have idle chat. Have a nice day." He moved on quickly, then looking down at a letter before approaching a house.

She looked at the seal. There was no doubt in her mind that it was from Iona. Stepping behind a building, she glanced around before taking out a knife to pry at the wax seal. She held it firmly, pressing her lips together as she read. It held troubling news.

_My Thane_

_This letter was delivered to your home the other day. _

_I did not want to alarm you, but I used discretion in deciding whether it was important enough to notify you. _

Another paper was folded within the letter. A yellowing, moth-bitten piece of paper, with a message roughly scribbled on the back of it.

_Thane Madrale Uvani of Riften_

_You may think that your identity is secret, but it is not._

_I know who you are. Your very nature that you keep so secret._

_Come, meet me outside of Riften, due east of the Fishery. _

_If you do not, I will give away your identity to Maven Black-Briar,_

_and another... Who can pay very hansomely._

_Meet me under the cover of night. _

_If you are not there in a week's time, know that your end will be near. _

She beat her fist against the wall, cursing. How? How did this happen?  
Iona was right to notify her, though her thoughts of what this persecutor was speaking of was likely not anything close to the truth. She paused, trying to slow her thoughts. How long would it have taken for the letter to reach her? Was the week almost over? She swallowed her panic. She must make haste.


	9. Wavering Loyalties

Enjoy!

-Liliedove

* * *

Madrale was in the first room before the door closed. She walked across the bridge, preferring not to run into anyone: she had to get what she would need for the journey, and fast. There could have been days or hours before her deadline was at hand, for there was no specific date given on the note. By Sithis! Why didn't Iona think about listing a date for her? As she took the stairs two steps at a time, she passed Nazir. He raised his eyebrows as she blew past him.

"Hey, slow down won't you?" He chuckled. "You didn't miss dinner! I've got some grilled Salmon ready, and some horker meat is still roasting. It should be done soon. It'll be delicious, I assure you!"

She passed the archery range, and had closed the door of her quarters behind her a moment later, her packs from the town now on the floor. Gliding her hand across the top of the shelves, she plucked the ring of keys and proceeded towards her chest. She shuffled through it. No, no no! Nothing in here would do! She closed it. What would she wear? If this person already knew who she was, then what was the use of hiding it? But what if it was something else? What if Iona's thoughts were right? Then all at once, this persecutor would know both of her... _private_ identities. Then what? Madrale tried calming herself. This person knew she was Madrale Uvani. That she was thane of Riften, and owned a home there. What if that was it? Few knew her family name and those who shared it. Perhaps they only wanted to sully her politically, to make the Jarl look bad? That would be foolishness! To point out rumors of things that happened centuries ago! Though perhaps her role in the Family went to prove the rumors as being true. Not that it mattered now.

She pulled her hood from the shelf. Best to just go as Madrale of the College of Winterhold. This person must have known about that at least if they knew she is Madrale Uvani. She fingered through the potions she was meaning to sell in town. What horse should she take? Shadowmere was fastest, but was it the wisest choice?

"Hello, my_ Listener_!" She heard a content hum from behind, then glancing momentarily over her shoulder. She needed to calm down more. If she couldn't even hear Cicero open the door she was as good as dead on the road. She returned her attention to her task at hand. Cicero laughed. "Now, Cicero wonders: what could the Listener be doing? Fluttering about like a bird with one clipped wing! Not anything like the Listener Cicero knows, no not like the Listener Cicero knows at all. The Listener Cicero knows is calm and composed. Never crazy! Just maddeningly sane! All the time!"

"I don't have_ time_ for you GAMES, Cicero!" She growled.

He recoiled slightly, shocked at the attitude she displayed. He remained silent as she crossed the room, picking up a few pouches she filled and tied to her belt. Cicero studied her while biting his lip. "This isn't like you. Where could you be going in such a hurry?" His voice was smooth and cooing.

"It's personal, and none of your business." She tightened the band around her waist before snapping the hood to her robes and throwing it over her head. She then paused, gently tucking her hair back behind her ears. He was good at masking, but she could see the look of hurt he was attempting to conceal. She dropped her arms, sighing. She turned and placed her hands on his shoulders, which quivered slightly. "I'm going to Riften. I will be back as soon as I can. I know that I've been absent longer than I should as of late, but this is important."

Cicero looked at her hands, slowly reaching up and pulling them down into his own. "What sort of situation would put the Listener in such a bind? To make the Listener so flighty? Not the usual composure of our cornerstone."

The look in her eyes told him she was hesitant to say. "My identity may be in jeopardy, and with that so may yours. Don't tell the others! Under any circumstance, do not tell the others! I will solve this myself. If the Family is concerned in this matter, I will not allow anything to happen to anyone of you. Trust me Cicero."

He slowly nodded his head. "But of course, my Listener. When have I ever not trusted your judgment?" She quickly slid her hands out of his, nodding her head in thanks. She then walked towards the door. Cicero turned to watch her leave. "Good luck! You need not worry, the Listener can trust Cicero's confidentiality!"

* * *

The Listener had disappeared again. It had been four days. Barely had she been back from her last outing that she disappeared again. Again, they were left wondering! Again they sat around in silence, though this time there was something more to the silence than just confusion. There was a sense of irritation, everyone getting on each others nerves more easily than normal. It was clear that no one found her disappearance as something to be left unnoted. No one appreciated this mystery, this sense of being left in limbo. Each sat in their usual seating arrangements for occasions where the table was full: Nazir with Babette to his left and Mariella to his right, Cicero on the far end, Bulmond across from Mariella, and Svenja to his right. The head of the table across from Cicero was where Madrale typically sat, and was of course now empty for some time. Little conversation would bud. Someone might mention a thing, and perhaps most of the table would join into the conversation for a time, but then it would die away again as fast as it came. It were as though they were barely acquainted with one another, which was the opposite of the truth since all they had were each other. One would let out a sigh, another would tap their fingers of foot, and some would just stare down at their food as they ate until they left the table. Nazir grumbled.

"I've had enough of this silence!" He leaned forward in his chair, crossing his arms as a frown creased his brow. Svenja hnmed in agreement.

Cicero clicked his tongue as he scratched his fork against the table, stabbing his meat with a butter knife. "Then why don't you just talk? That will kill the silence."

Svenja watched as the fork dug into the table, jutting her jaw forward as she bit down on her lip. "Would you quit that already?" She growled.

Cicero dropped the fork, then picking up the slab of meat with his knife and gnawing on an edge of it. "It's a bit burnt. I can't tell what this is."

"Deal with it." Nazir said as he huffed out of his nose. "I don't see you doing any of the cooking."

Cicero put his hands up in the air, twinkling his fingers with a dull look on his face. "Cicero takes care of Mother. Would you really like Cicero to care of your food as well?"

Nazir only gave a look of contemplation, then shaking his head and sighing. "This is not like her. This is not like her at all."

"You mean the Listener?" Bulmond looked at the abandoned piece of meat on Cicero's plate, his eyes longing.

Nazir continued. "This is now the second time she's left, and she was back for less than a day! She just disappeared out of thin air! There are a lot of things that need to be done, and with her absence it's becoming increasingly harder for me to handle. We can't just put everything on hold until she comes back, we're already backed up as it is!"

The glazed look over Cicero's eyes dissolved, as he now perked up. "She is the Listener! She must know what she's doing!"

Nazir shook his head again. "Something isn't right. I can just feel it. Something's going on that we aren't aware about."

"Well, who knows what she's doing. We don't really know much about her, now do we?" It was Svenja who had spoken. Nazir gave her a look of skepticism. She pat Bulmond on the shoulder. "What say you? What are your thoughts on the Listener?"

The boy froze for a moment, then regaining his composure. "I'm really... Not quite sure. But, she seems amazing!"

His smile wavered when he saw the grin slip from her face. "Oh? Well, how so?"

"I don't know exactly, but just by being in her presence I feel awed. I can feel it, how powerful she is compared to me."

"I see," Svenja leaned back in her chair. "Yes, I think we can all agree that she's... quite powerful. I have never seen her in battle, but as you said there's a sort of aura about her. That's what makes her of leadership quality. But, do you think she's trustworthy?"

"Trustworthy?"

"Yes."

Nazir sat up, a scowl on his face. "Svenja-"

"Let the boy speak for himself!" She retorted, putting a hand out in front of him. "We shouldn't keep secrets from one another if we are to rely on one another. Let us hear his thoughts." She looked back at Bulmond, who looked rather nervously about the room. "Go on with what you were saying."

"Well, hasn't she lead the organization for a long time? Why shouldn't I trust her when she's brought us this far?"

"Ahh!" A content look spread across her face once more. "Yes, that would be a reason to trust her leadership. However, I've been absent for a long time... I was reassigned to the sanctuary in Cheydenhal, within the province of Cyrodiil, you see. The last time I was in Skyrim I was a wee lass, younger than you two recruits. Back then, another young woman not much older than I had begun to lead the Family. Her name was Astrid. She was a prodigy, such as myself. There were other members who were there much longer than the two of us, but sadly the last of them died recently, within the past year. All at once!" She looked over at Nazir and Babette. "Just how long has... The Listener been a part of the Family?"

Nazir shifted in his seat. "I don't know exactly, it's been a while."

"The Listener was already in the Family when Mother and I arrived at the Falkreath Sanctuary, back when she was simply known as Madrale! Oh, Cicero remembers those days! She was constantly in and out of the sanctuary! Cicero only spoke to her on occasion then. She always has been a silent one."

"Really? How long have you been here?" Bulmond said as he glanced over at Cicero, still eying the meat.

Babette set her fork down, clearing her throat as to draw attention. "Madrale, The Listener I mean, joined a little over a year ago. She made quick progress, some of the fastest I've seen in a long time. It wasn't long before we discovered she was chosen as the Listener."

"Only a YEAR?" The look on Svenja's face was truly shocked. "Well, how can we really trust her then? I had some doubts, but with this information! Why, she could have a sleeve full of plots we don't know about! _Loyalties_ we don't know about, that haven't had time to surface! She's constantly off by herself, even within the sanctuary. Who is to know?"

"Silence, you foul woman!" Cicero had jumped up on his chair, now perching with his fork pointed in her direction. "How DARE you question the LISTENER? The Listener knows best! Her motives should not be questioned! She is loyal to the Dark Brotherhood, to Sithis, and the Night Mother! Even before she was a member! Oh, Cicero knew, for Mother had shown her to him before anyone else had ever laid eyes upon her!"

Nazir and Babette gave him looks of surprise and confusion. "What are you talking about?" Nazir questioned. "You just said that she was a member before you ever entered the Falkreath Sanctuary!"

"Yes, are you not _listening_? WHO is the FOOL now, HUH?" He jabbed his fork in the air, Bulmond leaning back into Svenja to make as much distance from it as he could. "Cicero said that she had been a member of the Family before he came to the Falkreath Sanctuary, yes! Yes that is the truth! But Cicero met her another time, a time when she was not yet a child of Sithis!'

"When was this?" Bulmond ventured.

"She helped poor Mother and Cicero when his wagon wheel broke! No one would help! Oh, but she did! And she was not a Sister! Cicero could sense it! But Cicero could sense another thing, and of course Mother never forgot her help. No, Mother knew that she would! It was a divine appointment for the three of us to run into each other before the appointed time!"

"I've never heard this story." Nazir said with a frown.

"Oh, well OF COURSE NOT! NOBODY EVER LISTENS TO CICERO! He's just a mad FOOL!"

"Cicero," Mariella said calmly, putting a hand on his arm. His gaze snapped onto her, a beast like look still lofting in his eyes. "Cicero, you can sit down now. It's alright, we believe you."

Cicero's lips puckered and distorted as he wrestled with his thoughts. In defeat he dropped the fork and drooped his shoulders, but he continued perching on the chair.

Bulmond repositioned himself in his chair when the threat was gone. "The Listener was spoken to by the Night Mother, was she not? So how could she not be trusted, if the Night Mother trusts her to do her will?"

There were nods around the table in agreement.

"Yes, a very good point indeed!" Nazir said with a nod. "While I think there is something fishy going on, it is no reason to conclude that the Listener is up to anything of poor character. I trust her with my life."

"I'm sure there's a very logical explanation for all of this." Babette said as she folded her hands together. "The Listener did in fact say that she had been going after those loose bandits when she was gone last week. Bulmond was there, he could confirm that as a witness. I don't know why she left this time, but it certainly must be important."

Bulmond rubbed his chin. "It is rather strange though, that she'd just disappear like that without a word. It's not that I don't trust her, but how can we know whether or not she is doing what she tells us she has done? No one is with her to verify anything."

"I'd like to know a bit more about the Listener myself." Mariella added. "Bulmond and I barely know a think about her. About anything really."

"What are you going on about now?" Nazir had a look of disbelief on his face. "I told you what you were getting into when I recruited you. Say anything else and you're a liar."

"Yes, and if I'm not mistaken you only mentioned that you were an organization of assassins backed by Sithis and the Night Mother, two deities I have only heard about in myths and maid's tales. There was no mention of this Listener, and there is nothing that can prove to me that she truly is who you say she is. How am I, and Bulmond for the matter, to know whether or not this whole thing is real or just a hoax? Something to stir up more fear in hearts, or perhaps more patriotism in us as members? To strengthen our loyalty ties to you? One could easily pretend to have heard from a deity, when in reality they already had the information they gained from other resources."

"Preposterous!" Cicero screamed, now standing on the chair again and pointing at her with his dagger. "BLASPHEMING! And to think Cicero trusted this one! Cicero has been searching for the Listener for fourteen years! FOURTEEN YEARS! IT HAS BEEN FOURTEEN LONG, MADDENING YEARS SINCE THE LAST LISTENER DIED! The only one who would know who the next Listener to be would be ME, the KEEPER! For the Keeper knows the words! The WORDS! Others pretended, and Cicero KILLED THEM! SLASHED THEM! MASHED THEM! THEY ALL DESERVED TO DIE! But Madrale, MADRALE! SHE IS SURELY THE LISTENER! SHE KNEW THE BINDING WORDS! Do YOU know the BINDING words? Do YOU? PRETENDER! MADRALE knew the BINDING words! The WORDS that told Cicero who the next Listener shall be! And it was HER! It was HER! It was her indeed, for Cicero knows the BINDING words and would KNOW if dear, sweet Madrale was LYING! She'd be dead! DEAD! A pool of dried, burnt blood on the floor of that ACCURSED Falkreath Sanctuary!"

"Cicero CALM DOWN! The girl has a point! Put that dagger away already!" Nazir yelled, putting a protecting arm out in front of her. He didn't take his eyes from Cicero's face as he put his other hand on her shoulder. "Mariella, I assure you that it's all real. I too was once a skeptic, on the fence, back when we ignored the Old Ways. The Family faced the wrath of Sithis and the Night Mother due to our infidelity. It wasn't until Madrale came that things went back to the Old Ways, and things then rebirthed into the Brotherhood. Trust me on this."

"Well what about her loyalties? Even if she is loyal to the Night Mother and Sithis, who is to say she doesn't have other ties?"

"That is a good question to be pondered." Everyone's attention was then drawn to the stairs, where Svenja now stood. During the chaos, no one had noticed her slipping away from the table.

"Where have you been during all of this?" Nazir spat.

Svenja took a few steps down the stairs, laughing through her nose. "Well, if you must know... While you were all blindly following someone you don't even truly know, I did my own bit of research."

"You did_ what_?"

Pausing for a moment, she slowly drew her hands from behind her back. In each she held what appeared to be an ebony dagger, but was darker, and with a greater curve to it. "Can any of you tell me what these are?"

There was a moment of silence in the room, blank looks on all of their faces, except for Babette who could only say '_oh'_ out of realization. Nazir gave her a confused look, then turning back to Svenja.

"They're daggers. What of it?"

"Daggers? Oh, my dear Nazir these aren't just _any_ daggers. _These_ are Blades of _Sacrifice_. Babette, I take it from your reaction that you understand what that means? On the other hand, Mariella... You are from High Rock, correct? Do any of your people worship the Daedric Prince Boethiah?"

"I can't say that I know... I vaguely recognize the name."

Svenja took another step down the stairs. "Boethiah is the goddess of chaos... Of plots, and deceit. She requires her followers to fight to the death, and sacrifice the innocent who trust them on her altar. Oh, but by the look on all your faces I bet that none of you had even the slightest _clue_ that our _Listener _is a part of that cult."

Bulmond's face turned white as he glanced over at Mariella, who returned a concerning look. Babette then furrowed her eyebrows. "Boethiah is worshiped by almost all dark elves. This shouldn't come as being surprising."

"And what does it have to do with anything?" Nazir added. "What other gods she may worship has nothing to do with us or her service to Sithis and the Night Mother. There is nothing saying that she cannot worship the other deities."

"Is that what you think?" Svenja said faintly. She then drew closer, pulling up her sleeves. "Her worship of Boethiah has _everything _to do with us, and her duties! Look!" She displayed her wrists, the skin shriveled and discolored. "These daggers were not the only thing she was hiding! Have you not noticed my cough that I only got rid of a day or two ago? These inflictions will take longer to heal. I would bring the item out for show and tell, but I don't want anymore damage done to me for simply..._ touching_ it."

"And what is this item you speak of?" Nazir's expression was now concerned.

"Her badge of office, of course. Only the CHAMPION of Boethiah can wear the armor without being poisoned! Of course, only by Boethiah's blessing this is possible."

"How do_ you_ know so much about Boethiah's cult?" Babette's face was narrowed.

Svenja sneered as she crossed her arms. "I'm not so ignorant of the divine and dark ones as you all think, me being a Nord! Why do you suppose Nords don't particularly like races such as the Dunmer? Of course, it is because of where their loyalties lie. The Dunmer worship the Daedra, and while I am not so naïve as to think that with so many gods that everything would bode well if I were to only serve the honorable ones, the Daedra are not of the supreme order amongst the divine. To know that our Listener, our leader, is worshiping _Boethiah_, a _Daedric_ prince? To know that our Listener is not only bound to Sithis, but _also_ the whims of a lower being such as a Daedra as well? She would not refuse the calling of Boethiah. No, she could not and cannot deny, or else her life will be snuffed out. So that leads me to question, what is it that she does when she leaves this sanctuary? Who is to say that she isn't doing Boethiah's will as we speak?"

Nazir vented through his teeth. "And so what? As long as she does what the Night Mother wants, and she leads this Family, what difference does it make?"

"What difference, Nazir? Wasn't it you who was just complaining about how we cannot wait for her any longer? That we are, what did you say... Falling behind?" She turned, looking now at the jester who had turned to stone. "Cicero... You are one who truly knows the difference between one who only serves the Night Mother and the Dark Lord Sithis, and one who is divided. How do you feel about this?

His lip quivered as he mustered the will to speak. He muttered, barely audible. "You... You are a horrible liar."

"I'm not lying to you."

Cicero began shaking, his fists balled up as he dug his nails into his palms. "Yes, yes you ARE LYING! YOU NEED TO DIE!" He began to lunge, Mariella and Nazir then grasping him around his arms. He struggled, pulling out his dagger. "GET OFF OF ME! GET OFF OF ME YOU INFIDELS!" He screamed, slashing at them the best he could.

"SETTLE DOWN!" Nazir yelled. Mariella let out a cry, still holding onto Cicero as she tightly held her eye shut as a shield from the wound, blood streaking down from beside her brow to the edge the other side of her face.

Svenja recoiled, a look of shock and disgust on her face upon seeing this. "Deny it all you want, Keeper! You are a good assassin and as any other you should be able to be able to pick a few locks yourself. I am speaking the cold, hard truth! In this very sanctuary there is enough proof for you. Ask! Ask your Listener when she returns, see how honest she really is!"

Nazir looked up at her, a snarl on his face. "Svenja, you should leave this room! You've caused enough damage already!"

"Damage?" She scoffed. "He's the one half on the table, knocking things and ripping Mariella's face apart! I am telling you something you all need to know for yourself!"

"JUST GET OUT OF HERE SVENJA! I'M ALREADY CLEANING UP YOU MESS, NOW JUST GO!" He screamed.

Svenja left, returning to their shared quarters. She could hear Cicero still wailing his threats. She slammed her fist against her desk. What would it take to get to these people? Did they have this much blind faith in someone so... so deceitful?! She held back a scream of aggravation. What was wrong with these people?! Were they so blind? The brotherhood would crumble at this rate!

She pulled out the letter she had collected from the orc's quarters. She read it over again, slowly closing it. They were in danger. Their leader was a stranger to them, and disappeared on a whim twice now. Perhaps a regular member, but the leader? The_ Listener_? This Listener who had other ties? No, she could not be trusted, just as she had always thought. She was up to something, something behind their backs. Her attention was not completely on the Brotherhood, and that was dangerous. They needed a leader who put them first above all else. What could the Night Mother been thinking?

"It looks as though I will have to do this on my own." She said bitterly, putting the letter back between her breasts.

* * *

Madrale sat astride her chestnut horse. She was right where her predator told her to wait, and she was getting sick of waiting. It was dark, raining, and the wind was ridiculous. The trees swayed side to side, whipped about by it. How long was this person going to be? She questioned if she missed the deadline. By Sithis, she better not have! After waiting even longer, another hooded figure began approaching her from the distance. Immediately she cast a magelight, which distorted her face with more shadows and revealed the figure in full.

"So you decided to come after all?" He paused, waiting for a response. When she wouldn't give him one, he continued. "You were nearly too late." As the wind gushed, he grasped the edges of his hood to keep it about his face. "I know who you are!"

"Yes, you have made that well known to myself and my housecarl. Would you get to the point? I've wasted enough of my precious time on you." The magelight trembled in it's position as the wind continued beating things about wildly.

The man then laughed. "What? Will you shoot me if I don't? Ah, but of course! It's far too windy for that! And to be sure, this rain will dull your accuracy! You will have to come after me with a blade! Or, perhaps a spell, or a conjuration! Something brutal, I'm sure."

Her jaw tightened. "Just who do you think I am then? Other than Thane of Riften?"

"I know who you are! You walk about my city, and walk about my own personal territory! There is no doubt about who you are! Who you REALLY are! You are a member of the Dark Brotherhood!"

Madrale felt a dart of pain when her suspicions were confirmed. "So, what are your ideas of what to do with this sort of information?"

"Many things!' He laughed out of amusement. "I must say, you picked a rather strategic place to stay! Dawnstar is the perfect place to hide from the Legion! But with the direction the war is heading in, it wouldn't bode well with your lot if they know your location. It would give them yet another reason to charge in and destroy that pathetic place they call a city!"

Madrale held her breath. This man was a threat to their very existence. Within seconds, she put her hand in the air, releasing a bolt of lightning from her fingers. The man dodged, but fell to the ground. His hood was thrown off. Madrale squinted, recognizing him. Anger boiling over, she dismounted and took long strides over to the man. He took in a sharp breath of air, quickly picking himself back up.

"YOU!" She spat. "YOU TRATIOR! WE HAVE AN ALLIANCE!"

"Then you know who I know! She is currently unaware, but if you do not comply she will know soon enough! Many are biting at the bit for the whereabouts of your lot!"

She grabbed him by the collar, drilling into his eyes with her stare. "Now tell me how you'll manage to do that when you're DEAD?"

He placed his hands on top of hers, standing on his toes. "Because if I don't report to a particular person by a particular time and date, my information will be passed on! Passed on to so many that you won't even know what will hit you!"

She cursed: she was being blackmailed! She paused, seething. "What is it do you want in _exchange_ for your loyalty then? _Gold_?!" When he didn't say anything else, she threw him down. "Of course, gold! That's all anyone ever wants!" She pulled out a purse from her belt. "I thought as much before I even left for here. Take it, and be gone with you!"

The man took the purse, weighing it in his hand. "There's not enough here."

"Fine. Then I will _tell_ my _housecarl _to deliver one thousand septims to one_ Vekel _who works down at the_ Ragged Flagon _for the _Thieves _Guild." She spat at his feet as she turned to leave.

"Do you really think that this will do you much good? With the way things are heading, you will be found and wiped out eventually."

She turned to look at him once more. "Do you like your gold? Or would it all be the same to you if I kill you right here and now?" He was silent. "You better watch out for yourself in the future, _bar keeper_. You're digging in places that should be left well alone."


	10. Cicero and His Listener

**A/N: **This chapter? Yeah. YOU'RE WELCOME.

-Liliedove.

* * *

Cicero sat on one of the polls that anchored the bridge ropes. With his legs spread apart, he laid an arm across one knee while propping the other one up to hold his chin. He wrestled with his thoughts. To think he had thought such dangerous thoughts, and still yearned- hoped! For them to happen.. Someway, somehow, but oh it just wouldn't do!

Was it possible? Could the Listener have possibly betrayed them so? No, she couldn't have, she COULDN'T have! But oh, the daggers and the armor! How could this be? How could she do such a thing? He closed his eyes. He could picture her, standing before him. Oh, if only he could have been a bit taller! Tall enough so that his shoulders were higher than hers! A man should be the taller, and broader one, should he not? But oh, at least she wasn't the broader one. And was she taller or was he? He couldn't tell. At least his shoulders were still wider, and her torso was much leaner. To imagine her without those baggy robes on, without- OH WHAT WAS CICERO THINKING? He grabbed his face and gave it a good shake. No, he mustn't think such thoughts! So, so invasive! What would she do if she knew his thoughts? His so frequent thoughts? Oh how he missed her company. Her calm demeanor, that serious and yet gorgeous expression on her face... Those small, pursed, beautiful, light colored lips! Were they soft..? They looked soft... Oh his heart raced just thinking about it! He shook himself again. Stop it Cicero! But oh, to hear words come out of that mouth! To have those lips form words to give him assurance! He could almost imagine them. He could almost hear her breathing, her very footsteps! He could hear that sigh of hers, when she's finished a hard day's work. Oh how hard she worked! She needn't work so hard! He froze. Cicero did hear her sigh, truly he heard a real sigh! He opened his eyes, taking in a short breath. There she was! It was no imagination, it was real! He had heard it with his own two ears!

She looked tired. She needed rest. She had been gone for days, she must be exhausted! The dear, sweet Listener... OH but she has QUESTIONS to ANSWER! Yes, MANY questions to answer for what she had done! His mesmerized look then turned into a frown. He watched as she paced around the Night Mother's coffin. His look softened. Could there still be a chance that it was not true? There must have been. There MUST have been! She placed a hand on the coffin, then muttering a prayer to the Night Mother. He pursed his lips tightly, thoughts racing. Maybe now was the time to approach her? Try as he might to convince himself, he kept himself glued to the stump. He balled his fists, wiping the sweat from his palms. Go he must! He stomped one of his feet, mad at himself for not gaining the courage to walk up to her now out of all the times he had done so before.

He then turned to look when he felt a presence behind him. Nazir passed, looking down at him as he continued on. He approached the Listener. The accursed Redguard! What was he doing up at this absurd hour?! Taking Cicero's chance! Who else might still be up?

"Listener."

She looked at him as he stood before her. "Nazir."

"I see that you have returned." She gave him no response, only looking at him. "We've missed your presence in the sanctuary. It's not the same without you here."

"I apologize, there was important business I had to handle. It's been dealt with properly now, rest assured." She had removed her hood, now looking down into the darkness of the dining room.

Nazir shifted his weight onto the other foot, simply looking at her. There was another moment of silence. "Business huh..." Cicero stiffened as he looked back at him, giving him a sympathetic look. What was that look for? Cicero didn't need such a look! It was... was, was maddening! Nazir then looked back at the Listener again. "Are you planning on staying for a while now?"

"I never meant to leave in the first place." She replied. "Things just came up. Hopefully that is over with now and things can return to normal."

"Funny you mention things coming up unexpectedly. I want to keep a close eye on Svenja now. She's been snooping around in places she shouldn't, and though she hasn't kept anything she has taken I want to know what she's been up to. Of course, with your permission."

She laughed: that glorious, wonderful laugh! Cicero put a hand on his chest. "Well, I know she's a handful but what could she have done to make_ you_ of all people get so up in arms?" Cicero growled, then stopping when he recalled that his presence had not been noted by her yet. But oh, how his blood began to simmer just seeing that! Why couldn't she banter with_ him_?

"She's done more than I'd like to say." Nazir replied, shaking his head. "She doesn't particularly trust you; keeps going on about how you must be two-faced."

"Is that so?" She sounded rather amused. "Well, nords will be nords. They are suspicious of everyone who isn't a nord, especially those who are not of the race of pale men. I'm surprised she even trusts you as much as she does."

"Well, it's precautionary. If she's not getting into any real trouble, then we can rest easily at night. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to know."

"I see your point... I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"If she's back tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"She disappeared a few days ago."

"Really now. I suppose we'll just have to deal with her when she returns. Right now I'm hungry, so I'll get myself some of the left overs before I retire."

"Alright, I'll see you in the morning then." He passed Cicero again, not looking at him this time.

Cicero sneered as he stood. Was Nazir really not going to tell the Listener the things that woman had committed against her? Of course! Cicero had to do everything himself if things were to be done correctly!

* * *

Madrale lit a flame at her finger tips, flicking it at some of the candles around her room. She released another sigh when she saw her bed. She loosened her belt as she walked towards it, then pulling her robes off over her head. Her chemise clung to her, still damp with sweat. She loosened it as well.

"Nazir is surprisingly fond of that wench."

She quickly looked over where the voice had came from, tightening the draw-strings to cover her breasts completely again. She could faintly see his face through the darkness as he sat with his legs up on her desk, playing with her writing feather between his fingers. "She has a wicked tongue, that one. To spout such lies as she had in the dining room only a few days ago now! Oh, but Nazir has just as wicked lips for keeping them sealed when they should have been open." He sounded resentful, a look of displeasure on his face.

"Cicero."

He stood, placing the pen back on the desk. He then approached her, his eyes flickering from the ground to her face. He has a serious look about him. He seemed... cold. "Oh, that wicked tongue! It couldn't be true... could it? My Listener..."

Something about his presence was different. Madrale turned to face him completely. "I don't know what you're talking about." She furrowed her brow as he placed his hands on her shoulders, then drawing them down her arms gently, rubbing his thumbs against them. His face was solemn. "Of course you wouldn't... Of course you wouldn't, you're innocent. My Listener is innocent." He took a step closer, his toes touching hers. "There's no way the Listener could be what she says... It's all just a trap for my dear, sweet..." their faces were inches apart. He slowly tilted his face, coming even closer with his mouth parted slightly.

Madrale became alarmed. "Cicero!" She gasped.

He blinked, frozen for a moment before he drew back, looking into her eyes. He had a look of longing. "But then there are those daggers..." He whispered. "And it makes Cicero curious. Just what was Madrale doing all these days?"

She was taken back for a moment at the use of her true name, almost reprimanding him for using it; but didn't the others use it as well? "Cicero, you know fully well what I was doing. I told you before I left, don't you remember?"

"Oh, but of course I remember! Why would Cicero forget? But how is Cicero to know if the dark elf is _lying _to him?" He was taken back by the brief look of hurt that flickered across her face. He quickly turned his back on her, taking another step away. "Oh, but of course not! Of course not, for you are the Listener! Your loyalties only lie with the Dread Lord and the Night Mother, that is for certain! …Does it not?" He stared off in the distance, waiting for her reply.

Madrale studied him. He stood completely stock still with the exception of his hand that instinctively itched for his dagger's hilt. She let out a deep breath. What had possessed him a moment ago? She bit her lip, thinking about what almost occurred. Her heart's beat went out of tune. Why was it going out of tune? She placed a hand on her chest. "I still don't quite understand where this is all coming from. Of course my loyalties lay with Sithis and the Night Mother! What have I done to deserve this speculation?"

He turned to look at her again, glaring angrily. "And NOBODY_ else_?" His voice dripped with venom.

She became quiet. He looked at the expression of discomfort on her face, barely seen but by the small light the candles sparsely provided. "There are many gods that rule over Nirn." She said in a low voice.

"Ah yes! The Eight Divine! Or the nine, if you are like the accursed Nords!" He said sardonically. "Or... perhaps the Daedric Princes are worthy of _worship_?"

She paused. "What daggers were you speaking of?"

"DON'T DANCE AROUND THE BUSH! We ALL know! Yes, that which your accuser spoke of and your Speaker hid from you this very night!" He laughed as he watched her eyes gaze over to the bed. "YES!" He declared, marching over and bending down. "Yes, Cicero KNOWS! He did not WANT to know, but he knows! He did not WANT to BELIEVE that Listener Madrale was was CAPABLE of such ATROCITY!" He pulled the chest out and into view. "CICERO KNOWS HOW TO PICK A LOCK, MADRALE. Cicero did not WANT to believe THE ACCUSER, but it seems her words ring TRUE! It is not her, but YOU who is the BETRAYER! YOU BETRAYED ME!"

He was yelling. She quickly approached him, placing a hand tightly around his mouth, giving him a look that crippled him. The anger in his expression was washed away, replaced with a moment of fear. He recoiled from her. "Quiet down, you'll wake the others! We don't need their audience tonight! I don't know what was said, but I am no traitor! Yes, I serve Boethiah."

His expression was numbing, as though he was watching the crumbling of all he held dear. He took her hand from his mouth. "So it... It is true." He could barely muster the words. It was as though she had stabbed him in the back when she said those words. She gave an agitated sigh as she then kicked the chest back under the bed. "And... And you kept it a secret?"

She looked at him, giving him a knowing look. "Just because I've never said anything doesn't mean I was trying to keep it a secret. It's not important."

He was not convinced. "Then why the secrecy?" Why lock it away... _in secret_?"

"I wasn't hiding it!" She growled. Cicero put a finger against his lips. She shook her head, putting an arm out. "You even said that all it took was knowing how to pick a lock! Do you really think I'd put something I wanted no one to find _under my bed i_n a sanctuary full of expert _lock-picks_?" His face began to soften as he contemplated what she said. "I wasn't hiding it, it is simply a thing of the past. I didn't need anyone getting hurt by its contents."

"Then why? Why does the Listener still have it? Are you not still bound to do her will? To be snuffed out if you do not?"

She gave him her hand, bringing him back on his feet before she sat on the edge of her bed, indicating to him to join her. They proceeded to talk in low voices.

"Do you remember when you asked me about my past? On the road to Markarth?"

He sat silent, staring into her eyes once more; this time with hope. "You said you had done some foolish things, nearly killed yourself no? But you're still alive because you must. You must, because They knew you would be the Listener."

She looked back at him, thinking. Her eyes flickered down when she felt his hand against her knee, which then retracted to his side. She looked up at him again. His attention was now on the floor. She looked at her knee again, then placing her own hand there. "When I was a young girl, I lived with my family in Morrowind, but we were originally from the Empire. I was born in Cyrodiil."

A light grew in Cicero's face as he looked back up at her, amazed. "You? From the Empire?" A smile spread across his face as he chuckled. "To think we came from the same homeland! Where from, Sister?" He had a flirtatious look on his face as he made his eyebrows dance, that mischievous spark in his eyes. She tried to keep from allowing herself to catch it, but a small smile grazed across her face. He raised his eyebrows even more at his, giving her a look that made a laugh escape her lips. She hid her face with a hand, sighing.

"Leyawiin, though I don't remember much about it, just that I lived there in some distant life. I haven't been there since our pilgrimage to Morrowind and our stay turning out a lot longer than planned."

"What a shame! You must return there one day. With me, perhaps? It feels like it has been so long since I was last there myself! But it has been less than a year! Oh, how things change so quickly!" He looked as though his spirit had returned to that place. "Yes, that place was Cicero's home so long ago..."

After another pause, she continued. "Once we were in Morrowind, I remained with my family. They were... Well, as one might expect from a dumner family. Those of course," she chuckled. "With the pride of one from the Empire. It didn't always give us the best reputation. Our branch of the family had been in the Empire for so long that we had ceased ancestor worship. That was frowned upon in the Empire, and we were then frowned upon in Morrowind for not doing so. We had no contracts made into oaths with any relatives whose remains were found. We were too far removed from our last ancestor who made one, and so we could not pick up the old tradition again. Despite that, our family still welcomed us with open arms again. You see, my father met a distant relative of ours who was traveling the Empire. They got along so well that the mer invited us back to visit his family in the homeland. It was then that my father fell in love with the land and decided to stay."

Cicero listened intently, watching the expressions on her face change as she relived the memories. "But you, you didn't love the homeland?"

"No, not exactly."

"And so, you left? All on your own?"

"Not on my own. I was not nearly brave enough for that." She laughed.

"Oh?" Cicero grew more curious. "Then who was this... Person?"

"My older brother, Garnas. He was eighteen at the time. He was always the black sheep of the family, always off on adventures instead of being sensible and staying in school to learn magic. My father always scolded him for that."

"And what of you? Did you go on adventures?"

"No... No, I was too shy for that. Too obedient! I did what I was told, when I was told to do it. I stayed in school and studied. I always had a knack for conjuration. I can't say the same for Alteration."

"I've never seen you use your magic. Why not?" He tilted his head to the side.

"Yes you have!" She clicked her tongue. "Why, right as I came in the room tonight I lit all the candles! Threw the little flames from my finger tips!"

"That doesn't count!" He whined.

"Yes it does," she bantered, pushing his shoulder. He gave her a toothy grin. She looked at him for a moment, then noticing what she was doing. She placed her hands in her lap, regaining her composure. "Anyway, my brother was getting sick of all the 'rules' he had to follow. The sacred days he had put aside for worship of the Tribunal: Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. As you can see, I've been worshiping the Night Mother since my youth."

"What?" He gave her a confused look. She returned the look.

"What do you mean, what?"

"Well, you just said you worshiped Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. Perhaps you forgot to mention Mother?"

"Oh, I see." Madrale ticked her finger back and forth. "You must not know, huh?"

"Know WHAT?!" He was becoming frustrated.

"The Night Mother is the incarnation of Mephala herself, you see. Hence, she has known me and I have known her my whole life."

A look of understanding spread across his face. "I see... I think. Yes, Cicero thinks he has heard something like that before... Cicero doesn't know if that's really true or not though, but it seems to make sense now."

"Well it_ is_. Anyway, my brother didn't like the strictness. He was never one for religion, not like that. It didn't give him enough freedom is what he kept telling everyone. This went on for years until he just couldn't stand it anymore. I was always there, watching him. I confronted him the night he left. He was hastily packing his things. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was going on an adventure. I asked him 'What sort of an adventure?' I remember the look in his eyes when he looked at me that night. He was bursting at the seams with excitement! He looked me over, and then grabbed my hands, saying I would be suitable to join him, that I was old enough now to make my own decisions."

"So you went with him?"

"I was hesitant about it. I didn't like the idea of leaving my home and my family. But then... Then it hit me. The thrill! The adventures I had only overheard him talking about! Oh, how I remembered longing to go on his silly little adventures! So I said yes. I thought that we'd certainly return. It wasn't until we has sneaked out of the house and were long on the road that I asked him where it was we were going. 'To Skyrim!' he told me. 'To Skyrim and beyond! I've only heard of that place in stories: it's ice-capped mountains, and all the treasure one could carry!' I asked him if we could not find those things in Morrowind and he had told me we could not. It took me a while to realize that he was never planning on taking us home. I missed it, but I still hungered for the adventure and I feared getting lost on my own. Eventually we ran out of coin. It was then that we found the cult of Boethiah. It was my brother's hope that by defeating the other members we could have enough coin to eat. I didn't like it, but the other members weren't penniless. He fought, and he won! We could then keep the spoils! But, it was never quite enough..."

She went silent. Cicero bit his lip. "Never quite enough?" He said in an attempt to press her on. She nodded her head.

"That's when I had to join myself. At first I tried convincing him of other means to earn money, but back then there was an even greater prejudice against our people. No one wanted to deal with our sort. No work, no trade. We had to make it on our own. We were above stealing, and couldn't bare to lower ourselves to that level. Garnas... He went far, but in the end he did not please Boethiah and was burned when he tried summoning him at his alter. I on the other hand was seen... Favorably."

"Favorably..." He muttered, as if trying to understand the meaning behind it. "You seem to be found in favor with many of the deities. Oh, but if only you had not been his champion! If only you would have saught out the Dark Brotherhood sooner! It has been 14 years now, why 14 years late? Why didn't you arrive right when Alisanne Dupre was murdered!"

"She would have needed to die much sooner if that were to be my redemption from Boethiah's cult."

"Oh! Oh... Um, really?" He gave a sheepish laugh. "That's right, you are a dark elf... Just... Just how old are you? Might I ask?"

"Never ask a woman her age." She scowled.

"R-right! Of course! For you are the Listener, and-!"

"Cicero," Madrale putting a hand on his shoulder. He stopped, laughing softly once more.

"Right, right... So what did you do from there? After becoming the champion of Boethiah?"

She couldn't believe she was telling him this much about herself. She must have gone mad herself this time for sure! "Well, Boethiah didn't have much to tell me. It was as though he lost interest in me... Once in a while he would tell me to do a thing, but not often. I await to see when he will send someone my way to kill and take my place as his champion."

Cicero sat up straight, standing while partially still sitting on the bed, the dagger now armed. "KILL YOU? NEVER! Cicero will not let that happen! NO! You shall not be replaced! You are the Night Mother's now, and he will not take you from me! I mean, I mean us!"

"Calm down Cicero, nothing is happening!" He looked at her, then sheathing it in his belt as he settled down again. "Sorry."

"I spent my time doing what my brother would do: going on adventures! I went from hold to hold, making a name for myself by doing tasks for people. One bad run in with some draugrs told me that I wasn't where I wanted to be with my magic, so I joined the College of Winterhold to hone my skills. In the past decade, I've become a Thane in Riften and here in Dawnstar. A title given, I think, for the Jarl to feel as though they're nobility. I do appreciate it though. I lived in Riften for a long time. It was a great place for me to sell my wares, after all. One wouldn't think so for it's reputation of thieves, but I did well there. It wasn't long after that when I was traveling that I met you."

"When you met me, Cicero." He smiled to himself. "Ah yes, I will always remember that day! You helped me so much! I will NEVER forget it, NEVER! And Mother will not either!"

"That's what you keep saying." She got up, then pulling a bottle of mead off the shelf, dusting it with her hand. She popped the cap off, then taking in a gulp.

"You don't drink very often. Sometimes, but not often." Cicero commented.

"I don't do well with alcohol. I do crazy things." She replied, laying down on the other side of the bed.

"So why are you drinking it now?"

"I figured I'm already crazy tonight." She laughed. "Telling you all that- no dunmer does that! Not to a man like you!" She laughed, taking another gulp. Cicero spied another bottle on the shelf.

"Might Cicero have one as well?"She waved him off. He proceeded to pick up his bottle, smiling as he put the glace in the air. "To our service to the Night Mother and the Dread Father!" Madrale put her bottle in the air as well. Laying next to her, he laughed. "No, I suppose a dark elf wouldn't tell an Imperial these things about herself, but perhaps at heart you are really an Imperial and not a dark elf."

She looked over at him. "Me? An Imperial and not a dunmer? No."

Cicero shrunk his head into his shoulder at the refusal of his suggestion. "No?... Not even just a little?"

"No." She took another sip.

"No?"

"Maybe just a little."

He smiled. "Yes, just a little."

They then continued to drink in silence.

* * *

The Door slowly trudged closed behind her as Svenja entered the sanctuary. She still had a contemplating look that had been on her face since she had departed for home. To think that such a thing was occurring right under their noses! She strode into the first room, met by an off handed hello from Babette and a look from Nazir. He looked as though he had been waiting. Funny, people seemed to like waiting for her in that spot.

"You're back now, huh?" He approached her.

"Yes, I am." She replied, putting a hand on her hip. "It looks as though you have missed me."

"Oh, you know I did." He said sarcastically. "I'd like you to meet me in the archery range in the next few minutes, before you crash for the rest of the day." He then walked away. She raised her eyebrow, then following behind him.

"Why don't we just do this now then." She said as she walked side by side with him across the bridge. He glanced down at her.

"Fine by me." As they walked down the stairs, she was met by the Listener's stare. She then knew that she must have been tattled on. She glared at Nazir.

"Welcome home, Svenja." The Listener said as they walked into the room. Beside her stood a ghost. Ah, typical dark elf.

"Greetings, Listener." She responded. "Who is this?"

"I heard that some things happened when I was gone... All I'd like to say is that if you'd like to keep your warm bed here, you're best off not stirring up things that are better off settled. Do you understand?" She gave her a hard stare.

Svenja returned it, defiantly. Knowing she was at a loss she gave in, nodding her head. "I understand."

"Good." The Listener crossed her arms. The ghost looked between them. "This is Lucien Lachance. He was once a Speaker for our Brotherhood in the Empire many years ago. I would like it if he would accompany you for a time."

The ghost stepped forward, staring down at her. She squirmed uncomfortably. The dead were better off left dead. He put out a hand, a force within her forcing her to put forth her own into his. She cringed slightly at the touch, which was an odd sensation of something dry and solid and yet not at all. She looked up at his face again. He looked rather young and handsome to be a ghost, but of course many within the Brotherhood died too soon. His demeanor and features gave her a strong feeling that he was an Imperial by blood as well as birth. She frowned slightly when his expression changed, as if recognizing something.

"Ah!" His voice was deep and alluring. "Letreius Petilius sends you his regards, Ma'dam Svenja."

A shocked look came across her face, which then softened for a moment. She realized that she was still holding his hand, and let go. Looking back at the Listener and Madrale, she nodded her head. "I think I can deal with that."

"Really?" Nazir said with a disbelieving laugh. "I don't think we've got the right person here. Are you truly Svenja, or are you someone else _pretending_ to be her and failing miserably? The Svenja I know would never be okay with having a ghost around."

"I have a right to make my own decisions." She said as she put her chin in the air.

"Sure, if that's how you'd like to look at it." He sputtered another laugh.

"As long as you're not going to give us a hard time, then you're free to go." Madrale stated.

"Oh! LISTENER! You're down there? Is that you?" The four looked up to see Cicero dangling from the bridge ropes.

"He does know he isn't supposed to put his weight on those, doesn't he?" Nazir scoffed.

"Cicero has cooked you up some dinner, Listener! Come, come taste it! I'm sure it will be... Quite delicious to your sense of taste." He laughed, then leaving.

"So you did spare him?" The sound of contentment could be heard in Lucien's voice.

"Yes, I did." She replied.

"It was a good choice." He looked at her. Nodding her head, she turned to walk away.

"I don't think I should keep Cicero waiting long, or else he might go sour-faced for a while. I'll see you both at the table."

"I hear you there! I'm starved!" Nazir followed closely behind, then striking up a new conversation about the mudcrab soup Cicero had made the week before, and how it was best to be avoided if that was what he made again tonight.

Svenja looked back at Lucien again with a raised eyebrow. "A good choice? Are you_ sure_ about that?"


	11. Taking Things Into Your Own Hands

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! School/life took a hold of me these past two weeks, so much so I hadn't even realized it had been so long! Again, a big shout out to all of my reviewers! Thank you so much! Fun fact, so far MF is about as long as a 252 page book! And we're only at chapter 11! Weee! **

-Liliedove

* * *

Svenja breathed out steadily, watching as the fog twisted and turned while it rose in the evening air. She let out a satisfied sigh, smiling slightly as she stepped out onto the open road. Her hips swayed as she walked, a new purse of gold now tied to her belt. Close behind her walked another. His ethereal figure was luminescent, making the dim lighting before dark seem even duller than usual. He wore a robe which, in life, wouldn't have given one much reason to suspect him as being a member of the Dark Brotherhood; certainly not in these parts of the world. Fashion had certainly changed in the past two hundred years since his demise, but as one who spent many years living within the Empire, Svenja could suspect its origins.

His eyes rarely left her. She didn't need to look back to know: she could feel it, like a dagger pressed against her spine, propelling her forward. Though, over the past month and a half she had gotten used to it's presence and it did not bother her much anymore. There were times she could simply pretend he wasn't there, and it would almost seem as though it were the truth. She wouldn't admit it to anyone else lest she be put to shame, but she didn't much mind his company. Rather, it made things more interesting. It was quite entertaining to see the look on people's faces when they saw a ghost behind her; it made them think twice about attacking. On the other hand, it made things harder for her when it came time to make her kills. She had shifted her methods from killing during the night to killing during the day. What was the point of going by cover of night if you have a human torch following your every footstep? Perhaps it was a good thing. She used to have the confidence to hunt during the day, but it had been many years since she had practiced that method.

"You always surprise me, Sister." She glanced over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. "You have extraordinary skills I have only occasionally seen. If I were still living, I would consider you as my Silencer."

She hummed. "I never thought I'd receive such a compliment, especially from one of the dead."

"For the eyes of mortals, death isn't quite what it seems."

"Is that so? Well, I suppose you never would have imagined you'd be brought back to the world of the living to be my keeper. But it must be more interesting to watch a woman's every step than a man's, is it not?" She chuckled.

A soft laugh resonated in his throat as a small smile grew across his face. "In life, I might have fallen victim if you had chosen to seduce me, but in death it matters little. Things such as lust and marriage has little value in death." The smile fell from Svenja's face as she paused on the road. She turned to look at him. "As a mortal, you may consider this to be a great and searing loss, but once you are there you will understand. It will mean little to you as well."

"So all that was important in life is but a lie?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is everything that made us human stolen away when we die?"

"What is it that makes one human or otherwise?" He replied. "And why must a thing in life be a lie simply because it isn't so in death? Things such as companionship, things such as_ love, _are necessary in the world of the living. It is not as though one forgets the ties to this world after death, it has simply changed rolls."

Svenja continued to glare at him, her own thoughts and his words battling one another in her mind. "Well, I suppose that answers my question." She continued to walk.

"You are an interesting subject to watch, Ma'dam Svenja. It is not often one comes across one as talented as yourself. Why is it that the Listener has instructed one such as myself to _watch_ you?"

"I don't trust her, that's why, and she doesn't like it."

Lucien hnmed, rubbing his chin. "This is most interesting. Why is this?"

"Well, for one thing she's been in the Dark Brotherhood for less than two years, and within that time all but a couple of the members were killed. I was in the Empire for years, and when I came back I found her in charge! Quiet, mysterious: she's a dark elf, I could expect no more than that. They are a race that doesn't trust others and isn't a race to be trust. They worship the daedra, and she is no different from the rest of them. How was I to even know she truly was the Listener and not a pretender?" Her voice displayed irritation. Fiddling with the purse on her side, she glared at the ground.

"She is the Listener, I can testify to that for I have seen the Night Mother and Lord Sithis with my own eyes. There is no need to doubt her position."

She huffed. "I know now that she is the Listener, but I still don't trust her loyalties. How am I to know if what she does is for the sake of the Brotherhood or for the sake of some other cult she follows?"

"If she is so secretive, how do you know she worships the daedra?" He questioned.

"How do you think?" Her tongue became sharper with every word, her anger boiling up into her eyes. "I did my own research, as any good assassin aught to do! And because of that, I was punished." Her fists were clenched.

Lucien paused before speaking again, then talking slowly. "Do you know the 5 tenets?"

"Of course I know the 5 tenets! It's written on the walls of every sanctuary." She threw her hands in the air.

"_**Tenet 4:**__**Never steal the possessions-**_"

"Of a Dark Brother or Sister-"

"_T__**o do so is to-**_"

"invoke the Wrath of Sithis. I did not _steal _from her. I only took them from her room and out into the dining room to show the others the evidence of her connections with the Boethiah cult. Afterward I returned them to the exact location I found them in. I did not_ steal_. I have no desire to take and keep her things."

Lucien paused again. "I understand."

"At least _someone_ does." She muttered, shaking her head. "Anyone else would have done the same thing if they had suspicions about someone. I have respect for the position of Listener, but if she was a false leader, if her loyalties are tied in somewhere else that may someday put the Dark Brotherhood in danger. No, I cannot support that." A sour look stained her face. "I don't know what the Night Mother was thinking when she chose the Champion of Boethiah."

"Perhaps you should simply trust in the Night Mother's choosing. She sees beyond what you can see." Svenja glanced back at him again, furrowing her brow as she contemplated his words. They were then silent as they continued walking, the sun now low on the horizon. As they came to a fork in the road, Lucien stopped in his tracks. He watched as she continued walking in the wrong direction."Dawnstar is this way." He pointed to the right. She looked at him, smiling.

"We're not going to Dawnstar just yet."

* * *

"Nazir, are you sure they're ready to be out on their own?" Madrale shifted in her chair, twirling her pen between her fingers. Nazir leaned against the desk, his arms crossed against his chest.

"Of course I am! I think you're babying them too much. They are excellent assassins! Well, Mariella is at least. However, Bulmond has improved a lot in these past weeks. He can take on a regular contract: experience is the perfect teacher, especially for his type."

The Listener sighed, looking down at the contracts they had signed. Bulmond's was off in Winterhold. It wouldn't be a terribly long journey as long as he avoided the mountainous paths. There were frost trolls out that way, but he was born and raised in that hold. He must have known better than to tramp around in their territory unknowingly. It gave her some ease to know he wasn't assigned Mariella's contract, but that still made her feel uneasy.

"Mariella's contract is right outside of an Imperial camp. I don't like the sound of that."

"We can't simply ignore a contract." Madrale gave Nazir a blank stare. He looked dignified in his decision making, and he never go back on that belief, even if it was her who opposed his judgment.

"Yes, but wouldn't it have been better to send someone like Cicero instead?"

Nazir sighed and rolled his eyes. "Really now Madrale, give the girl some credit! I know it might not seem like it to you, but she's not a kid. She's an experienced fighter, and an apprenticed mage as well. If she gets into a jam she can send some illusion spells flying. They need to mature more before we bring in more recruits. You, me, Babette, heck even _Cicero _will be seen as gods in this Family, a skill level they can aim for but will never acquire. Bulmond and Mariella will be their peers, the ones they will look up to and model after. Whatever skill level they are at will set the standard. If they die now, they die. We can't have an organization full of immature assassins."

"I see your point." She muttered, then scribbling down notes on a paper she had already been writing on.

"Look, they'll be fine. Have faith in them! They'll pull us through. People had their reservations about you, but I never held you back. Now look where you're at!" Madrale glanced up to look at the smirk on his face. "Well, I suppose you would have advanced anyhow, seeing that you have the Night Mother's favor." He watched as she returned her attention to the paper again, dipping her pen before she continued scribbling. "Hey, why don't you take a break for a little while? It feels like it's getting around that time, so why don't you come eat with me?"

"What about Babette?" She questioned, not taking her eyes away from the parchment.

"What do you mean _what about Babette?_" He chuckled. "I was asking you to dine. Come now, you've got to stop and eat sometime, why not now? You know I make good company."

She paused, contemplating what he said. She looked up at him, and the back at her work a couple of times before giving a sigh of resignation. "Alright, just for a little while."

"Good!" He exclaimed, hitting a fist against his palm. "We've got fresh stew and some melons today. I got them from a hunter if you'd believe me. I cracked one open last night, it was pretty good! I have high hopes for the others!"

* * *

"Almost done, Mother." Cicero muttered as he picked the oil-rubbed cloth in between her toes. He carefully rubbed each nail, careful not to chip any. What else was there to do? The candle stubs were replaced, the dripped wax was removed, her body had been well oiled, the coffin was washed, the crevices were polished... He gasped. "Oh, how could I have forgotten! Poor, foolish Cicero! To forget such a thing!" He dashed to his room, returning as fast as his legs could carry him with another bottle in his hands. "I have it! I have it!" He jumped in the air in front of her, presenting the bottle. "See, I have it Mother! Cicero remembered! Oh, how could Cicero forget to perfume your lovely hair? A woman so fine should not go without her hair treated, NO no! Never could a thought like that be thought!" He began spraying it, then taking off his gloves and lightly working it in to her scalp.

When he heard the Listener's voice down below he paused, glancing over his shoulder. He couldn't quite see her, but he could hear her. Oh, by Sithis why did she have to stand so close to the wall! Move further away so Cicero can see! As if hearing, she wandered towards the table. Cicero clicked his toes and heels together in a little dance. He smiled merrily, then touching up on the Night Mother's hair again. "Do you see her Mother?" He whispered. He then chuckled softly, then humming a happy tune for a few moments before speaking again. "Do you see her Mother? How wonderful she is? Oh, but of course you do! Of course you see her!" He lightly pulled a few locks of hair down onto her shoulder. Staring at her for a moment, he crooked his head to the side, mimicking hers. "Some say that in life you were a dark elf too, Mother. Is that true?" He peeked around to her ears, a sight he already knew but was hoping would look different this time. "Oh!" He scowled, clenching his fists. "But they're too _decayed_! I cant tell!" His expression then softened. "But of course that's not your fault, Mother! That's just what happens when you're dead!" He then paused for a moment before giggling, a hand over his mouth. "Oh the thought! What if, perhaps, the Listener is a descendant of yours? Why, where else could she inherit such beauty but from you?"

He glanced over to the dining room again. The Listener now sat at the table, speaking with Nazir. Of course she was speaking with Nazir. He pouted. If Cicero were Listener, he would have made Madrale his Speaker! That way she would HAVE to talk to him ALL the TIME! Just like The Listener did with Nazir. Oh, but they spoke words to one another anyways, whether it was about the Dread Father's business or otherwise. They spoke too much! Too much for Cicero's liking!

Why didn't she seek him out to speak? It was always Cicero who goes to speak with her! She goes to Nazir, she goes to the un-child! By Sithis, she even went to that Svenja first! And Bulmond, and Mariella! Not poor CICERO! Forgotten! He was forgotten! Cicero was just the_ Keeper_. Was he anything else? He thought back on the night they spoke, the night the Listener told Cicero all about her past. Oh how JOYFUL he was that she had spoken those words! But the sweet lady had not wanted Cicero's sweet kiss. Oh, how Cicero longed to give her sweet kisses! No, just one! One would do, and then Cicero could happily serve the Night Mother and the Dread Father! "Or maybe two. Or maybe just three." He muttered under his breath as he corked the bottle of myrrh.

It had been a long time since she spoke to him last. When was the last time? He bit his lip: he couldn't remember. Was it three days ago? Last week? Three weeks ago? Yesterday? Whenever it was, it was far to long ago! Was she _ignoring_ him, now that she knew his feelings? She did know, did she not? Or perhaps she just thought Cicero was crazy? Yes, and that is why Cicero went in to kiss her that night. That must have been what she thought. Or maybe she didn't even know that those were his intentions? Oh, but how could someone like she miss something like that?

COULD someone like the Listener like someone like Cicero? At all? Could she not give him a chance? An inkling of a chance? No, of course not! He stomped his foot, then muttering to himself again.

"Cicero?'

He froze, then biting his lip as he glanced around, trying to think of what he should do. He stood straight up, clasping his hands together as he spun around on his feet, a large smile on his face. The Listener stood before him, giving Cicero a strange look. "Hello _my_ Listener! What might Cicero do for you? Do you need him to sneak, and STAB, and maim? Cicero will be only too _happy_ to oblige!"

"No, I don't have anything for you right now." She put a hand on her hip. His eyes followed before he closed them, shaking his head before looking back up into her eyes again.

"Really? Nothing, nothing at all for Cicero? Cicero is always happy to serve." He laced his fingers together behind his back.

"I didn't come over here to give you a task... I was just curious about what you were doing. You seemed quite upset, is everything alright?"

He squirmed on the inside. Oh Mother, restrain Cicero's desires! "Quite upset? Cicero didn't think he was quite upset, but perhaps he was?" He cocked his head to one side, and then the other. He closed his eyes, then shaking his head. "Nope! Nope. Cicero is perfectly fine! Nothing is amiss! The Listener worries about nothing, for nothing is the matter! No need to worry about silly old Cicero! No, the Listener shouldn't worry about a lowly servant like me."

She gave him another look. "Alright then, I better get back to work."

Cicero chuckled nervously as she turned to leave, flapping his lips wordlessly in the air for a moment before he could figure out what he was going to say. "Well, I, uh, Alright then! The Listener better get back to work!" He then quickly turned away, not daring to look to see if she glanced back at him. He then scowled again. "Look what you've done, Cicero!" He said hoarsely to himself. "Look what you've done! No need to worry? How _stupid_ are you! No work for Cicero? Cicero should have done something without asking if it needed to be done! Just do it! You damn fool!" He kicked himself in the shin, then bouncing on one foot as he cooed over himself.

"Just a nail! Just a nail!" he called out to any witnesses. "Cicero just stepped on a nail, but he's alright!" He slowly put his foot down again, letting out a puff of breath. "Foolish, stupid, foolish, stupid, stupid, foolish, Cicero!"

* * *

Mariella stood with her back against a tree, watching from a distance. Her target was a farmer. She watched as he went back and forth, bringing piles of wheat to the mill, going back and forth all day. What a tiresome job a farmer had. Was this what Bulmond used to do? She thought of High Rock. She had seen plenty of farmers there, but never so hard working as these. To produce crop in such a cold climate! Of course, she herself did not know what it was like to live like a farmer. Her family had wealth and recognition. No daughter of her father's was going to marry someone so lowly as a farmer.

Rest assured to her father, she wasn't planning on getting married. As far as he knew, she was accepted into College of Winterhold, and was practicing magic there. How proud he was of her accomplishments in magic. She dared not to tell him that she honestly had little interest in it. Who wanted to be a weak mage who could only rely on magicka alone to survive? What if there was no magicka? Melee on the other hand, was exciting. Hand to hand, the strength and agility the body had to acquire! That was something to be proud about. Not that she thought poorly of the use of magic, it just wasn't very assuring in her eyes.

She watched as the farmer's wife approached him, telling him it was late and to come in for the night. A pity, really. The people of Skyrim could be so petty. The purpose of this contract? As much as she could tell, another man was lusting after her and thought that the death of her husband would drive her needy heart into his arms. What a foolish man. If all of these contracts were like this, she thought she might return to High Rock.

She looked wearily at the rise of rocks and hill beyond the farm. She had scouted the surrounding area earlier, and had discovered that an Imperial camp laid to the northwest. She had been thoroughly warned about the Imperial Legion, and how the Brotherhood had become a target of theirs as of late. Over the past month alone the other members reported seeing things or even being attacked by Imperials on sight. The last thing she needed was to get into a scrape with their lot.

She looked at the shadows around here: she still and a long while to wait before she could go into action. Restless, she wandered a ways. She wondered how Bulmond's contract was going. Surely he had met with his client already? She had overheard his contract, it sounded simple enough. Too simple. In fact, her own mission sounded too simple. What difference were they making? What would killing a farmer out in the middle of no where do to help aid the reputation of the Brotherhood? If she killed stealthily without the wife ever knowing who it was who killed her husband, what would be the point? Even if word did get out that someone was assassinated in the forest, it wouldn't connect back to them. What useless contracts! Why take on such trivial assignments?

She thought of the Imperial camp again.

* * *

The Imperial soldiers sat around the fire, drinking and laughing. Not much happened out in Hjaalmarch, which left the Legionnaires off their guards. There was a mixed group of people there: either they were joyful for a break from the fighting on the line, or they were restless for not being able to continue fighting on the line. The joyful ones, of course, were the ones who were drinking and merry. The others looked on silently or complained to one another about when they thought they'd get on the road again, if ever. It was past dark now, the constellations brightly gleaming in the sky. The peacefulness of the night, however, was quickly forgotten when a blood curdling scream filled the air.

"What was that?" The soldiers stood to their feet, beginning to look around. They didn't have to look far to find the source. From a distance, the screams grew louder until a figure could be seen: a young woman, dressed in rags. She was panic-struck, tripping over herself. A moment later they could see why: a pack of wolves was following shortly behind, lunging at her with their claws.

"GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!" The young women fell to the ground, the wolves nipping and growling at her. The restless soldiers were the first to come to her aid.

"Die you damn wolf!" One cried, slicing at them with her sword.

The young woman tried bringing herself back to her feet, struggling with the task. She whimpered, grabbing onto the arms of one of the legionnaires. Within seconds the other wolves lay dead on the ground, the soldiers sheathing their swords. "It's alright miss, you're alright." The man said, patting her gently. She recoiled, screaming out in pain.

"Bring her over here!" A man cried. The legionnaire carried her over to a chair, lightly setting her down. The man met them there, a bag in his hands. "Let me take a look at you, young lady." She sniffled as she looked down at the handsome man.

"Are you a doctor?"

"Yes, I am the medic for the Imperial Legion. Hold still, I need to check if these wounds are infected. Don't worry, I won't do anything to harm you." He lightly turned her arms and legs over, then moving behind to look at her back. "These wounds need to be properly dressed. I have to ask you to undress. The other women here can help you with that, they've bandaged each other enough to know how to clean your wounds. You can stay here for the night, rest assured. We have a bedroll you can use, and then in the morning I'll take a better look at those wounds."

"Wait, but-"

"You aren't thinking about going back on the road at this hour? A young woman like you, all alone? There's no telling what will happen to you! You'll likely bleed out before morning!"

"Relius, you don't need to frighten the poor thing!" The legionnaire scowled.

"I'm telling the truth! She needs to know it, or she _will _die!" He retorted.

"Wait, please listen to me." She said hoarsely.

"Someone get her some water." The doctor shouted.

"Here, take my canteen." A woman said as she offered it up. Mariella brought it to her lips, slowly sipping it a few times before gulping. She then handed it back to the woman, bowing her head coyly. "Thank you."

"Why were you out on the road at this hour of the night, and alone?" The legionnaire said gently, bending down to her level. "A wee thing like you could easily get eaten up by the monsters that roam out here in the wilderness."

She sniffled, trying to hold a brave look on her face, but wavering back towards weeping again. In between staggered breaths, she spoke. "My, my uncle. He lives up in Solitude. My father died when I was young, and my mother and I could never afford to live in such a place as that. But my uncle! He's there, and he's tried helping us! My mother is just too proud to take any alms! My poor, gracious uncle! He's sick! Dying! One of the last of my living blood! My mother had to stay with the mill, but I just had to see my dear uncle!"

"Calm down lass, we understand what you're saying. There's no need to be ashamed." One man said as he handed her a piece of bread. She broke off a chunk, placing it in her mouth and savoring each bite. When she had finished it, her expression was overtaken by fear once more.

"I was fine, on the road. Until just a short while ago! There I was, passing this farm not far from this very spot! It was late, and I was thinking about stopping there for the night if they would allow me to stay. As I was coming up to their home I heard an awful wailing from inside! A woman! And then a woman ran out! She was masked so I couldn't see her face, but she was wearing black and red leather armor, and was carrying a bloody sword!"

The soldiers began muttering to one another under their breaths, truly startled looks on their faces. "It's the Dark Brotherhood!" One declared.

"BE QUEIT and let the girl SPEAK!" The doctor scolded. "Please, continue on miss."

"And, and there she was! And there I WAS! She saw me! And as soon as I saw that blade, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me! I thought she would kill me! I ran into the forest because it was my best bets of escaping, and then! And then that pack of wolves began to CHASE me! I ran, but they were too fast! I saw the fire here, and it was... It was my only hope."

"It was a smart move for you to come this way." He said, holding her hand. "What is your name?"

"Mari. Mari Gaerton."

"A Breton huh? I assumed as much. Well, Mari Gaerton, you should rest now. You're safe, we won't let you come to any harm." She nodded her head slowly. "Halvera, come and help dress her wounds! It would be indecent for me to do it with the places she must be cleaned."

"Yes Sir," she replied, taking Mariella by the arm. "Come now, let's get you cleaned up. Don't worry, you'll be alright. I've seen worse."

Mariella lay awake in bed, glancing around. The camp was now quiet. Everyone must have been asleep, save the watch. Slowly she get up, wincing slightly. This was nothing in comparison to Bulmond's wounds. She could heal herself easily, but it would ruin her masquerade. Perhaps just a little, just to save herself from the pain. She placed a hand on her side, letting out a small sigh of relief with the tension taken away. Edging to the opening of the tent, she scanned the perimeter. The watch patrolled the outer edges of the camp: they wouldn't expect an intruder from within. She watched as the commander paced about his tent, speaking with another. She spotted a chest amongst the boxes in the corner behind him. There were papers on the table as well. All she needed to do was wait until the right opportunity presented itself.

* * *

"What are we doing here?" Lucien kept a closer distance than usual.

Svenja put a finger to her lips as she continued to walk. They were now outside of a small village in Haffingar. It was already in the middle of the night, not long before the first hours of day.

"Are you dealing with... _Personal_ business?"

"I said hush!" She whispered harshly. "We don't need anyone hearing us now do we? You're already as bright as the sun, and seeing that you won't depart from me for a single moment the least you can do is stay quiet!"

As they moved forward, they heard voices and clinking armor behind them. They quickly ducked behind a boulder, watching as the Legionnaires past. Once they were at a reasonable distance, she signaled Lucien to follow as she swiftly crouched through the underbrush. It didn't take long for him to realize they were tailing them.

"If I've heard correctly," she whispered, "the man I'm looking for is right inside this small village. All I need now is to figure out which house he's in."

"You have schemes up your sleeves."

"You've got that right." She smiled as she watched the men enter one of the homes. Taking the long route, she sneaked behind the home, glancing into one of the windows. Within she saw the two soldiers speaking with a man, clearly of a higher rank. She hnmed happily to herself at her accomplishment. "Right on the mark, Svenja. Lucien, we'll stay put until those soldiers leave again. Then, I'll have the attention of Commander Maro all to myself."


	12. Doubting Loyalty

**A/N: Hello _dearies,_****sorry for the delay these past few chapters. I've recently had more of a life to live... You know how it goes: all magic comes with a price! And in this instance, the magic of me having a real life, came with the price of... Well, not updating. Really it was more like a small bit of real life, with a large amount of procrastination flavoring it. Anyhow, here you are! Chapter 12 is finally here! (And we all know that, as slow as I have been lately... I've been a lot faster than all the other CiceroxListener fic writers. Who else sits a solid 5 to 7 hours or more to write for you guys? I mean really? *nods head*)**

**Oh, and PS: With this new life I am not sure if I'll finish the MF banner... But I did put up screenshots of Bulmond, Svenja, and Mariella on DA for the curious. Not quite how I really imagine them, but as close as the Skrim character creation will allow.**

**-Liliedove**

* * *

Bulmond blew a sigh, tapping his knuckles against the small table. The chair squeaked as he balanced it on its back legs. Babette cringed at the sound. No, not sound: noise. It rattled her bones, making her hands shake as she sorted the reagents she had collected on her stroll the night before. Grinding her teeth, she glared over in his direction. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. He looked around every couple of moments, finding something that amused him for a time. As soon as she thought the squeaking would end and it was safe for her to begin concentrating on her work again, there was that infuriating noise again! Not to mention the tapping; that just added to the fire spreading through her veins. She slowly let a breath out of her nose while pinching the bridge of it. Bulmond groaned. Babette's glare shot over to him, her voice void of any form of amusement.

"Hey."

Bulmond glanced back at her as he picked at the corner of his eye, followed by swigging another through an ear. He sniffed his finger, his face recoiling from it slightly. "Hey."

A frown creased against her face. "Don't you think you could go be bored _somewhere else_?"

"Bored?" He popped his lips, then pausing. "No, not bored, just... You know, waiting. Restless."

"_You mean bored_?"

He met her venomous stare with a look of innocence as he contemplated her words, slowly. He hnmed, then shrugging. "No, I don't think they're quite the same. Maybe it's just your definition of bored." The chair made another dull screech.

Babette balled her hands, biting into her cheek. "Fine, then why don't you 'wait' and be 'restless' somewhere-"

Bulmond stood to his feet at the sound of the door's whisper. Hearing a yawn as the door rumbled shut once more, a spark lit his eyes. Babette shook her head as he sprinted through the front hall, soon returning in high spirits with Svenja walking a pace behind him. What a foolish boy! There was no possible way that woman would go for a boy half her age. "As long as he's not bothering me anymore." She muttered under her breath once they had passed.

Walking backwards, Bulmond glanced behind him as he lead her down the stairs into the dining room, a stupid grin etched across his face. "So how was your contract? Did you get the bonus and everything?"

Svenja gave him a mildly amused look before sitting at the table. She let out a relieved groan, her aching bones finally being allowed to rest. She folded her arms against the table as Bulmond quickly circled to the other side. A puppy dog, that's what he reminded her of. She smiled, throwing her pouch of gold on the table as she propped her legs up on it. "Of course! Don't expect anything less." She glanced through her slitted eyes as the boy's face contorted into an extreme look of awe. He then whistled.

"You're the bread winner of the family, huh? I've never brought that much gold back!" He began to poke at the purse, feeling the coins between his fingers through the fabric.

"Don't look so downhearted about it, Bulmond. You'll have your time to bring home the horker meat." He looked up at her again, wearing a sly grin.

"Do you think?"

"I don't think,_ I know_. Well, as long as you don't do something foolish and get yourself killed." She laughed as he took a hard gulp. "Don't worry yourself! I'm sure you'll be fine as long as you don't do what you did your first contract!" His face burned red at the memory, his attempt of hiding behind his hair failing miserably. After another moment, he licked his lips before looking at her again.

"On my last contract I went back to Winterhold. It was interesting, being there again. I knew that contracts would be all over, but for some reason I never expected to see it again. At least, not so soon. I thought a few years would pass first. Oh well I guess, at least I didn't run into anyone I knew really. My client was an elderly woman, actually. I thought that was strange. She wanted a man who lived out by the nearby stream dead. I delivered that request, though I wonder who he was and why she wanted him dead. She seemed pretty bitter, that much I could tell."

"They all are." She replied. "Either bitter or out for some motive involving money and political power. The usual. No one truly happy would seek are services, would they now?"

"I guess you're right with that one. I think I'm more comfortable with that at least. Say, something seems off about you today."

"Oh?" She looked at him tiredly. He snapped his fingers.

"Ah! Where's Lucien? I knew something big was missing! How could I forget? So where is he? He's always in your shadow. He didn't come in with you, did he?"

She glanced behind where the ghost would have stood. "Oh, yes... No, you're right he didn't come in with me. Unfortunately he perished in a brawl we got into."

"That must have been terrible!" He wore a shocked expression. "I mean, he was just a ghost, but he was one of us! One of the Dark Brotherhood! It's all the same, isn't it? And he had been your companion for so long now! It's a shame!"

She shook her head as she waved him off, taking her feet off the table. "There's nothing to mourn about. Lucien LaChance is not one of the living. He cannot die again, he has merely returned to the void. I'm sure he'll be conjured up again soon. I for one am glad, for now I finally have the chance to have some real down time away from this place! I haven't been able to go to the Windpeak Inn for a drink and fresh company with a ghost following my every footstep! They'd call me a necromancer, and never allow he to return again! In fact, I think I'll head over there now." She stood, brushing herself off a bit. "Of course, first I have to get out of this armor. Can't be seen in this in public now can I?"

Bulmond quickly rose and followed her back to the sleeping quarters. "Do you think, perhaps, if it's alright with you that is... I, could I come as well? I've been bored to death here! Everyone's a stick in the mud!"

"Oh?" She mused, glancing back at him as she dug through her chest, pulling out a pair of dulled cow leather armor. "I'm more entertaining to you than Cicero am I?"  
He froze for a moment. "Well, Cicero has been too busy fawning after the Listener! Oh, don't tell him I said that though, but it's obvious."

She looked at him, contemplating for a moment before giving a toothy smile that made his heart flutter. "I suppose you're not bad company."

* * *

Madrale lightly mashed the nightshade heaped inside of her mortar, squeezing as much milk out of it as possible. Pulling out the remaining pulp, she laid it aside and turned to stoop for another two hand fulls from her box on the ground. She narrowed her eyes when her hand met the bottom. Looking down, she found that it was indeed empty. "I've barely touched them." She muttered to herself.

"Hnm, such a waste don't you think? Such pretty, pretty flowers... Mother's patronage." She turned to see Cicero leaning over one of the archery targets in the training room. Due to their frequent use, she had recently installed another alchemy table in the alcove at the bottom of the great staircase. Madrale sighed as she shook her head, approaching the thief.

"I should have known it was you." Cicero grinned at her, putting one of the flowers up to his lips.

"You will forgive such a fool, won't you?" He held it out to her. She gingerly took it in her hand after he had playfully brushed it against her nose. Cicero then strolled over to the alchemy station with the rest of the nightshade, putting a bunch in her mortar but not before picking out the loose petals which had already been floating around in the milk or sticking to the sides of the bowl. He placed the rest back into the box, then putting it on the shelving where other crates sat filled with reagents. Madrale returned to her station, eying him as she returned to her work. She questioned what he was plotting when he began peeking into them, stacking and unstacking her things.

"Hand me some of those flowers, would you?"

Cicero dug his hand into a box below another, making Madrale all the more nervous that he would knock something over and make a mess of the place. "Would this do?" He presented a hand full of small red flowers.

"No, those won't do. They do look like they need to be used soon though... Get me some of the blue ones, and that spare mortar and pestle on the top shelf."

"Anything for you!" He pulled the bowl down, placing a hand full of blue mountain flowers in it before handing it to her. She nodded her head in thanks. "What was wrong with the red ones? They look the same! Well, besides being red instead of blue of course."

"They may look similar, but their affects are not." She began grinding the blue buds, the milk of the nightshade set to the side. Cicero watched with interest.

"Listener... What is it that you are making anyway? A poison of course, since you are using nightshade, but what will it do?"

"Well," she began, taking in a breath as she tapped off her pestle. She brought the nightshade milk back to the center of the table, slowly pouring the nectar of the mountain flowers in with it. "If I've balanced this right... It should deplete someone's magicka completely for half a minute." She poured some of the mixture into a green bottle, muttering something under her breath as she held it. Cicero jumped as a loud popping noise was made and a poof of smoke rose from the opening. Blinking a few times, he looked between the vile and the alchemist.

"So that is how it's done! Cicero had always wondered! And now he shall wonder no more! What were those words you spoke, hnm? The words that made it go 'POP'!"

"Special words you wouldn't understand." Madrale then corked it, putting it to the side before grabbing another empty bottle to fill. Cicero ventured over to the shelves again, poking around.

"I see, I see... Cicero can understand that much. But Cicero wonders... Could such a... a powerful poison such as that be made with.. well, troll fat?" She glanced at him in time to see the box above his head tremble before making a solid thump against it. "Ouch!" He exclaimed, rubbing his head. He then looked to see what had attacked him, gasping when he saw the mushrooms scattered across the floor. He cringed inside upon hearing her give an exasperated sigh.

"Never mind that." She said wearily, as the box and the fungi then floated up in the air, reorganizing before being placed back on the shelf. Cicero watched, wide eyed, then flapping his gums wordlessly. Madrale smiled faintly at his mystification. Cicero slowly returned to his previous task, this time with caution. Every few moments he glanced over at her, biting his lip. He let out a quiet 'ah' when he found what he had been looking for: piled in bowls were cubed pieces of troll fat. There was so much of it, so much that he wondered if she had used any. He lowly backed away from the shelves.

"Listener."

"Yes?" She didn't even look up from her work. He gulped.

"Remember that night?"

"What night?"

"You know, that night! The night the Listener told Cicero all about herself."

She stilled her hand, pausing for a moment. "Yes, I remember it. What of it?" She said in a low voice.

"Quite a night! YES it WAS!" Cicero began to laugh, though he didn't know why. It wasn't funny, was it? And yet he laughed. Why did he laugh? "Oh yes! Funny! HahaHA! Oh Listener, that was quite a night wasn't it!" She gave him a strange look. He put a hand over his mouth in an urgent manner, capturing a giggle.

"Quite..." She replied, giving him a concerning look as she began moving the pestle up and down again.

Cicero bit furrowed his eyebrows together before chomping down on his tongue, then holding back a whimper, punishing himself for bringing it up like a lunatic would. But he was a lunatic, wasn't he? He spun around, then bringing himself around to the other side of the Listener. He watched as another puff of smoke rose in the air. "May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

He licked his lips. Did she not find his last actions quite so crazy as he had? "You are quite the alchemist... So, I wonder, what would happen if you were to mash and smash Cicero and smash and mash Madrale... Would we make a potion or a poison?"

"You ask the strangest questions." She said sheepishly.

"Oh, is, is that so? Really now? Cicero just was wondering-"

"Well there's a chance we wouldn't make anything: just a failed potion." His heart sunk. "But it's also possible that we could make a fortification potion."

Cicero paused in thought, confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, furrowing his brow even more. "A... Fortification potion? Cicero would have thought it to be more likely a poison. We are assassins, servants of the darkness."

"Yes, but that does not mean we'd make a poison. We both contribute to our trade greatly, and balance one another. Our properties would therefore, if we were reagents, not repulse one another but balance each other out. With our positive attributes, we could make... Well, I don't know. It's all theoretical and bonkers at that."

"Oh, I see." He let out a quiet sigh of relief, then smiling. "Cicero can see that, yes he CAN! Very good one, Listener, very good! HahaHA!" He held his stomach for a moment as he broke into a dance, his eyes scrunched closed. When he opened them again, he found that she was no longer at her desk. Glancing around frantically, he jogged to catch up to her as she walked towards her quarters. "So, Madrale." He shrugged against his shoulders when she glanced back at him, a knowing look that told him he touched her in a different way by using her real name. "That night... Cicero was wondering, perhaps, if... If you had, had FELT! Yes, that's the word, had FELT the same beating sensation as he had!" He laughed nervously as he stopped by the doorpost, watching her as she walked over to one of her chests with the poisons in her arms. He put a hand over his heart, gripping at it through his attire. Her silence was killing him inside, only making his heart beat faster. Oh, MOTHER what is Cicero to DO? Is she never to respond? Silent, only silent to Cicero's calls? Like YOU? Oh Mother, please say no, PLEASE SAY NO! "Madrale, did you... Did you feel as I had? You... Must have noticed... Cicero, I mean I... I have been wondering... Ever since. Something was there, by the gods, by Mother and the Dread Father Cicero KNOWS that there was SOMETHING there! So please, dear Sister please... Tell me..."

Madrale slowly replaced the lid on the chest, locking it. She glanced at him from over her shoulder, still crouched near the ground. Those eyes, they mesmerized him every time she look at him. At this moment though, the last thing he wanted to see were those eyes. She rose, then stepping towards him. "Cicero..." The softened look on her face suddenly vanished. Cicero's mouth was left gaped, as he began moving his lips again. Flustered more than he could ever recall, he didn't take notice of the quickly approaching foot steps until they were right in front of him.

"LISTENER!" He blinked, taking in the sight before him. It was a woman, dressed in a dirtied dress, her blonde tresses mangled. He then realized who it was.

"Mariella." Madrale tilted her head, confused by the sight before her as well. "What is the meaning of this?"

"There is something I need to tell you, something I need to tell you _now_. It's urgent!"  
Cicero let out a squeal, stomping his foot on the ground and throwing his arms about. "Oh, CAN'T IT WAIT WOMAN? CAN'T YOU SEE _WE ARE BUSY_? HUH? GET LOST! Or may the Dread Father take your soul to the void this VERY MOMENT!"

"CICERO!" It was Madrale. The look on her face was of great disapproval. She then pushed past him, taking Mariella by the arm. "Come! Come in now and let us speak!" She brought her over to her desk. She then looked over sharply at the man who followed close behind. "Cicero, leave us. Make sure the door is closed_ tight_ behind you. Understood?"

Frozen in place, he forgot to breath for a moment. He then tripped over his tongue for a moment before bowing his way out of the room. "Anything for you, _my Listener._"

Watching him carefully as he closed the door, the Listener placed her attention back on the issue at hand. "Tell me what happened."

"The Imperials, your suspicions were right! They know about us, that we still exist. They're out there, and they are hunting us!" She seemed calm, but behind her deceiving eyes the Listener could see a bird fluttering about, crazed.

"We've always known this, Mariella. This isn't new news." She put her hands on the woman's shoulders. Mariella shook her head.

"No, this is different. There's more. There's so much more for me to tell you, things I've discovered!"

"Start from the beginning."

Mariella took a few steadying breaths before speaking again, gathering her thoughts. "I completed my contract. That has been done properly, but I do not have the payment. I couldn't, there was no time for it. The Legion, they had their eyes on me by then."

"I had a bad feeling about sending you out near an Imperial camp! By the Gods,did they follow you back here? Did they?!" Madrale let out a sigh of relief when she shook her head.

"No, they didn't suspect me at all. I sneaked into the camp, to gather information."

"How?"

"After killing my target, I ditched my armor in the woods... I couldn't be seen in it, of course. I couldn't go back for it either, because the Legion believes I'm a poor girl who was traveling to Solitude to visit my dying uncle. They insisted on escorting me so I wouldn't run into trouble. Anyway, I took some of the clothing my target's wife had in their wardrobe. As I was demising a plan to get into the camp, I came across a pack of wolves. They did the rest for me. I played the damsel in distress, and the legionnaires came running to my rescue. They even bandaged me up and gave me a place to sleep in their camp."

"Well done..." The Listener whispered under her breath. "I didn't think... Well, I suppose I was wrong to assume. What did you discover?"

"It is no mere coincidence that we keep running into them, certainly not because they are winning the war. No, they know our very footsteps! The legionnaires don't know, they simply do as they are told. They whispered about the dark brotherhood after I told them about the one who had left the house I passed. Some seem fearful, others seem confident that they will exterminate us. After they were well off guard about me, I was able to sneak into the captain's tent. Most of what was on display was for the war effort, but some things I found... I couldn't take it with me, not without them noticing. It was too fresh. There was a letter addressed to all of the captains, a newsletter if you will. In it... Oh, Listener! They know where our contracts are because_ they_ are _the ones _who are _giving us_ our _contracts_!"

The Listener froze. "They...What?"

"The only reason why they haven't come onto us with full force is because of the war effort. Things are too critical right now for them to be using men on us; it is better for them to win the war first, then having a thorough hunt once they have full control of the land! The letter was signed by Commander Maro!"

The Listener began pacing. "That's no surprise. He was the one who ordered a search for me! How in Oblivion he knows I'm a dark elf... Is that all you know?"

"No. There's another thing..." Mariella's hesitancy rung loud in her ears.

"What? What is it?"

"The letter... It said something else. Something I hate to say... It mentions that a member of the Dark Brotherhood has been visiting a few of the captains already, which was one of the reasons why he was bothering to send the letter to the captains as well. I can only imagine what this means..."

"I KNEW IT!" The Listener rasped. She strode past Mariella, who only turned to watch her leave. Taking the stairs two by two, she charged into the dining room. The only person present was Nazir, who sat eating half a loaf of bread at the table.

"_Where's Svenja_?"

"Well good afternoon to you too." He said with an amused look as she marched up to him. "What did she do this time?"

"TELL ME WHERE SHE IS, NAZIR." He was taken back by her tone, not understanding the urgency of the situation. He thought for a moment.

"I believe she went with Bulmond to the Windpeak Inn to have some drink. What, is there a problem?"

A light came to her eyes. "Lucien!" As quickly as she came, she left again, leaving a bewildered Nazir. Returning to her quarters, she took her ring of keys from her belt loop, opening a long case that rested on one of her shelves. Gently removing a scroll, she unraveled it onto the floor. She was alone now, the room vacated completely besides herself. Reading the words written across the scroll, she began the summoning process. Magicka surged through the air, building up more and more. Just as it was reaching its peek, it suddenly dispersed. "What?" She muttered in alarm. "He should be here!" She began the process again, and then for a third time. It then dawned on her as she sat on her knees. "By the Gods, this isn't happening."

"Listener? Listener?...Madrale?" She jumped lightly when she realized her name was being called. Cicero had entered the room. Had she left the door wide open? "Listener, what happened?" His tone was serious, as though he somehow understood the gravity of the situation. She looked up at him, helpless. "The one time I need him most." She whispered. Cicero glanced at the scroll, then understanding who she was referring to.

"You needn't worry, he'll come back one day, one day soon. He just needs some time to recover. You know this Listener!"

"Yes, but depending on when he died, I cannot summon him for some time..." After another moment on the floor, she stood, then retrieving her mage robes and throwing them on.

"Listener, Cicero is still in the room! How daring!" He let a single giggle escape him, but then kept his mouth shut. As she reached the door, she paused and looked at him. She had regained some of her composure, the crazed look in her eye now gone."Listener, where are you going?" He questioned.

"Cicero, just stay put. I'll be right back."

* * *

Bulmond laughed as Svenja ended one of her stories. For Dawnstar, the inn had become rather crowded soon after they arrived. He had a sense that it was not so much the hour as much as it was Svenja's presence. All men, of course, coming to goggle over her like some whore. Disgusting! He tried keeping his mind from it; it was him she was spending time with, not them!

"Serve me up another, Thoring! And put in an extra shot!" There was a spark in Svenja's eye. That was her fifth cup, and she didn't seem the least bit affected by it. If there ever were a Nordic woman true to the Nordic ways, it was Svenja! He looked down at his half filled cup: it was only his second. Chugging the rest, he slammed it against the counter, gaining the attention he had been seeking.

"Fill me up as well, would you? Same thing as this fine Lady."

"You sure you're old enough to drink, Laddy?" The inn keeper snorted. Bulmond scowled at him.

"OF COURSE I am! I am a WARRIOR! If I can swing an axe, break someone's bones with a hammer, and drive someone through with a sword, stealing their very SOULS, then by SITHIS I shall be allowed to DRINK as I PLEASE!"

The men gathered around the bar let out a unified laugh, some cheering him on with a slap on the back. "Come now Thoring, the kid's got spirit! Let's see how he can handle some strong liquor!"

"Aye, that will be an entertaining sight to see either way!" Another commented, bringing another roar of laughter.

Bulmond glanced over at Svenja, who was smiling and laughing at him as she took another deep sip from her mug. "I'd like to see if you can hold your liquor as well! You are a Nord after all, maybe you can."

"You can bet your life on that!" He boasted, puffing his chest out. "Why, when I was fourteen my older cousins tried mocking me, just like this! 'There's no way a wee lad like you can hold one ounce of liquor!' They all said! They laughed at me! Well, I proved them wrong! Put them to SHAME! They challenged me to a drinking contest- AND I WON!" The company laughed again, Bulmond joining in on being entertained by his own story.

"Fine then." The inn keeper scoffed, taking Bulmond's mug. He then looked at Svenja. "Don't blame me if he does something stupid." Bulmond's eyes lit when he saw the foam dripping down the sides of the mug. Flashing his eyebrows, he raised his mug in the air before taking a gulp.

"Bulmond, how old are you exactly?" Svenja asked, leaning against the bar. His face flushed a deep red, which he hoped could be blamed on the alcohol to those watching.

"Why do you need to know?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Come now Bulmond, just tell me, I'm curious."

He looked down into his drink, mumbling. "I'm seventeen, eighteen next season."

"OH, HE'S BUT A WEE LAD STILL!" One man boomed.

"NAY HE'S A MAN! He's a warrior, and he can hold his liquor so he's a MAN!" Another argued.

The expression on Svenja's face softened tremendously, which made Bulmond uncomfortable. "I guessed around there. Boy, how time flies by so fast..." She trailed off into silence. It was uncomfortable, and felt as though no one else was in the room despite the loud voices around them. He didn't like the idea of the topic still being on what he did not like: his age. Wanting to bring a new subject up, he cleared his throat.

"So Svenja, what exactly did you do? You know, all those years you lived in the Empire?" She glanced around at the other faces, giving him a look that told him that this wasn't the right time or place to talk about such things. However, she still entertained him with an answer.

"Oh, this and that... Adventures and such. When I was about your age... no, maybe a little bit younger than you, I met a man."

"Oh?" He shifted in his seat: this wasn't exactly what he was expecting to hear.

"He was an _Imperial _of all things!" She gave him a look as though the fact should have been strange. She took another deep drink from her mug. "Not my first tastes of course, but I grew accustomed to it. He wasn't a brute of a man, rather the opposite really. But he was cunning! As cunning as ever! So sly and creative with the way he did things, oh you wouldn't imagine the things he did... for those many wouldn't even _imagine_ existed!" She paused with a frown as a man bumped into her from the other side. "PARDON YOU?"

The man was dressed in leather armor, a rather difficult face to read. He whispered something in her ear, leaving her with a curious look on her face. A moment later Bulmond realized that she held a letter in her hands. Prying off the seal, she read it silently, her eyes grazing the lines on the page. She then folded it, thinking a moment before slipping it away up her sleeve. She pulled out her coin purse, handing the inn keeper a sum of gold. "Here, for the two of us. This should cover it in full." The man nodded his head and thanked her. Confused, Bulmond creased his brow as she turned and smiled at him. "I'm sorry Bulmond, but it looks like my relaxing time has come to an end faster than I would have liked. Farewell, I'll see you soon." She stood, facing the rest of the men. "ALRIGHT boys, it's time for me to go." The crowd moaned, some men throwing offers at her she flat out refused as she walked towards the door.

Bulmond stood, trying to see over the heads and shoulders of the men around him. "Wait! Svenja, where are you doing?"

She turned and looked at him. "Apparently I have business to take care of. Don't worry about it, I'll be back soon enough. Maybe then I can see you beat me in a drinking contest, huh?"

Soon afterward Bulmond took his leave. The company wasn't bad there, but it just wasn't the same once Svenja had left. He sighed, pulling the Amulet of Mara out from under his chemise. He wasn't sure how to feel about it all, a battle between happiness and disappointment; though it seemed that the triumphing feeling was of disappointment. On one hand he appreciated the time he had been able to spend with her, despite it not going quite how he had imagined it to be. For one, his age would have never came up. For another, the inn wouldn't have been quite so full of admirers. He hated being seen as so young! Even more so, he hated it because he could tell _she_ saw him that way too. She _must have_ known his feelings for her, was she just mocking him by paying him any attention?

"Bulmond. Bulmond!"

His head shot up when he finally realized his name was being called. A dark elf was quickly approaching him. He focused on her, trying to figure out whether or not he knew her. As she came closer, he felt himself jump inside when he realized who it was: it was the Listener! What was she doing out in public? And talking to_ him_ of all people? "What are you doing out here in town? Ma'am? I didn't expect to run into you here."

"Bulmond, where is Svenja?"

He blinked a few times, still confused. "She was drinking with me at the Windpeak Inn for a while, but a short time ago a man approached her. Gave her a letter, and she left saying she had some business to take care of. She said she'd be back soon though. Why, is something wrong?"

The Listener looked from him to the mountainous path away from Dawnstar. After another moment, she looked him in the eye. "Go back to the sanctuary." She then moved past him as though she never new him. He turned to watch her go, baffled and curious as to what had just happened.


	13. Caress of the Argonian Maid

**A/N: **Hahahaha- Enjoy~  
And thank you again to my reglular reviewers!

-Liliedove

* * *

Cicero wrung his wrists, sweating. Where _was_ she? He sighed, anxiously licking his lips. Oh, _WHERE_ _WAS_ _SHE!?_ She had been gone for at least a good part of_ an hour_! He paced, side to side in the sleeping quarters. After another minute, he heaved himself down on his bed. He moaned. So close, he was _so_ close to getting an answer from her! And now _this_! By Sithis and the Night Mother, _why _did this happen? Why do these things always _happen_? Was he not _loyal_ to his God and Goddess? Did Cicero not_ deserve_ a blessing? Was this a sign saying that he was not good enough to stand side by side with the Listener, and was meant to always stand a servant's distance away from his master? Oh, but he'd do that still! He would do that for his mistress, even as her husband! He then froze, surprised at his own thought. His hand was wrapped around his mouth tightly, as though he had said something absurd. He frowned, then throwing his hand down. And _why not_? Why not marry the Listener? Was there something wrong with a fellow Brother of the Darkness to be one with the Listener? Why, as Keeper of the Night Mother, _he_ should be designated to have the first rights to her hand! Yes, was that not so?

He strode out of the room, jogging up the long stairwell. One. Two- me and you. Three. For. I want more. For? Four. Four? Or For? For. Five. Six- oh, what rhymes with six? Seven. Eight- lick my plate. Nine. Ten- "Oh, where ARE you!?" As if in response, he could hear the door rumbling open. His heart leaped within his chest, then beginning to race. The next moment he was running towards the door, a gleam of hope shining in his eyes. Bulmond sighed as he tramped through the entrance. He looked up dully, then raising his eyebrows when his gaze was met. Cicero's shoulders slumped.

"Hey." He raised a hand in greeting. "Going somewhere?"

Cicero's face contorted, wavering between a smile and a frown. When he settled on a scowl, he began throwing his arms and legs around in the air, letting out unearthly sounds between curses. Bulmond stepped back, his hands in front of him as a shield.

"Oi, oi! Calm down there! What's the matter, huh?" Bulmond said nervously. Cicero's fit then ceased with a huff. After another moment of calmness, Bulmond let out a sigh of relief. "Better now?"

"Yeah, I suppose." He muttered. He then looked up at him. The dangerous aura he had been emitting before was completely gone, and one could almost say that Cicero was back to his normal self if it weren't for the forlorn look on his face. "Say, does Bulmond know where the Listener is? She has been gone for quite a while... Yes, quite a while indeed."

"Oh." Bulmond glanced back at the door. "Well, actually I just met her in town as I was leaving the inn. She told me to return to the sanctuary."

Cicero hit a fist against the palm of his hand. "She must be after the traitor!"

Bulmond frowned. "Traitor? What traitor?"

Placing his hands on each of the boy's shoulders, Cicero stared into his eyes. "Tell me friend, where is Svenja going?" Bulmond seemed to have been taken back by the question, then nervously shifting in his boots.

"Svenja? I have no idea, just that she has personal business to take care of." He tilt his head to the side, biting his lip. Why? What does she have to do with anything?" He watched as Cicero began pacing two steps, back and forth within the small space of the tunnel.

"Cicero will just have to put things together on his on it seems." He muttered to himself, rubbing his chin.

"Are... You sure you're okay?" It took a moment before Cicero realized he had been talking to him. He then turned, smiling again as he grabbed his hands in his.

"Thank you, friend! Oh yes, you are a friend of Cicero!" He then leaned in, whispering. "As a friend, I'll tell you a secret: you should avoid the soup today." He then patted Bulmond on the back, Bulmond giving him one last concerning look as Cicero then dashed towards the door.

It was only mid-afternoon, but you wouldn't have known it. The sky was heavily overcast, the grass still slick from the storm that had brewed in the early morning. Wide puddles spanned over the width of the road, making a dry approach to the city gates impossible. Madrale pulled the faded red cloak closer to her body after handing a small sum to the stable hand. She breathed out slowly, fog twisting up from it, as she watched a figure approach on the horizon. She had beat her, but not by much. She had calculated her route accurately then. It hadn't taken long for her to figure out where her destination would be. Following at a distance for some time, she took off on a round about route as soon as Svenja took a road towards Riften she herself had well walked in the past decade.

Svenja walked through the ankle deep mud, in such a way that made it look almost graceful. She too had adorned a cloak, though open to show a worn leather cuirass. For her of all people to walk around in this hour, or rather to walk around with a disguise... Then again she had gone out to drink with Bulmond. Had she been planning to leave from the inn? It would be a good plan, a way to cover things up; create an alibi. As long as Bulmond told everyone it was personal business and she had to go, there could be a false sense of security about her absence. No, that answer didn't settle right within her, as much as she would have liked to think so. Something about it did not fit her... Style. She approached the guards with ease, smiling at one. He flirted back. A frown then settled on Madrale's face as her chest dropped into her stomach. Riften was no friend of the Empire, in fact it nearly symbolized everything the Empire was not. What were Imperial guards doing manning the gate? She had heard that the Empire had its eyes on the Rift, but no word had came from Iona. Had she died in a struggle? As the gates were opened for Svenja, Madrale made a haste to the gate in an attempt to sneak in behind her.

"Hault! Who goes there?"

"A Merchant, out to buy items to repair and re-sell for her trade." She glanced at the soldier from beneath her hood. It was a Redguard by the looks of him, but not a Redguard by Nazir's standards. He was too Imperialized, his mane tamed in dreads. The look on his face was rather strange, his nostrils flared in a way she recognized. As if he were taking in a nasty scent that made him suspicious of her motives.

"I'll ask you for your papers then, if you are a merchant." His eyes were narrowed at her.

"C'mon Farmin, let the womer in!" The other said out of exasperation. "Does it matter whether or not her story is true? It's a pathetic excuse for a city filled with a pathetic excuse of life." The Redguard paused, then snarling before waving her on.

"Fine then. If I find you've caused us any trouble though, you're in for it you hear?"

"Thank you." She said with a slight bow, then entering into the city. As she walked further in, she could feel a static in the air. If she didn't know better she'd blame it on the recent weather, but with this new installment of Imperials it was clear that everyone was on edge. Straining her eyes, she searched the crowd from a distance. She soon spotted Svenja, pushing her way through. Madrale walked along the outskirts of the boardwalk, keeping as much distance between herself and Svenja as possible: there was no telling how much longer she could keep her presence a secret. As she glanced around some more, she noticed more Imperials patrolling the streets. She didn't like this new development in her city. There was no extensive damage on the city; what had happened? Finding her way back to Svenja, she watched as she sauntered up to Brynjolf's stall. Madrale snickered, almost amused in a disgusted way. The Thieves Guild was involved with her schemes? Svenja then began to walk around the market as if she were browsing for a good. Madrale drew her hood closer to her face as she kept an eye on her. She then, as if grown bored, suddenly stopped her browsing and made her way to the Bee and Barb Inn.

"What could you be doing?" Madrale whispered, shortly following behind. As she entered, she spotted Svenja as she took a room key from Keerava. Thanking the argonian standing behind the counter, she then made her way up the stairs to the second floor.

"Hey, I recognize you." She glanced down to see Marcurio, sitting in his usual spot on the bench. "Have you hired me before? Perhaps that time I went to Goblin's Bluff? Or Ironwind Barrow?" Madrale simply shook her head, then walking away. "Hey!" He called after her. "It's rather rude not to say a word to someone who's talking to you!"

She felt all the eyes in the room land on her the further she went into it. Did the recognize her? All it took was for one to open her mouth, and she'd be discovered: Svenja would know in no time at all, and if that happened all hopes of catching her in the act would be ruined. Situating herself at a table that was far enough away from the stairs for Svenja not to recognize her right away when she descended them again, but at an angle where she could keep an eye on it, she slumped into the creaky chair. It wasn't long before Talen-Jei had noticed her, then weaving his way through the narrow isles between tables and chairs.

"Hello, stranger. Could I get you anything to eat?" He stared at her without blinking, a trait in all argonians that never ceased to bother her even after all of these years.

"I'll take some bread and cheese." She said while nodding, careful not to make steady eye contact with him.

"I will return right away." As he turned to leave, she put a hand on one of his arms. He glanced back at her, uncertain of her motives. "Is there... Something else?"

"Yes, I have a question for you."

"What is it?"

"How long have the Imperials gained control over Riften? Everyone is antsy still, so it must be recent."

Talen-jei shifted nervously as he laughed sheepishly, putting a hand on the back of his neck. "So you've noticed, huh? Well, I suppose it's hard not to notice. It's only been two days since they arrived."

"Two days?' Madrale's tone was one of disbelief. "I don't see any signs of battle."

"That's because there wasn't a battle. There were some outbreaks, yes, but the Jarl had given in peacefully from the start. She said she didn't want anyone to be killed when there was no hope of winning against the Empire at this point. I'm not quite sure if that's true or if she was being manipulated. I would have thought she would have fought to the death before allowing the Imperials to come in and take over. We still don't know who will be taking her place as Jarl: they certainly won't be keeping her in power, that's for sure... Let me go get that bread and cheese for you, if you'll excuse me."

She watched momentarily as he walked away, then looking at the stairs again. She shifted in her seat, sore from the long ride. How had such a terrible thing happened? Maven Blac-Briar was surely behind this change in power, and now she feared that she could have been in on the inconveniences placed on the Dark Brotherhood. Had she and Svenja come to an agreement? If the Thieves Guild was in on it, the thought couldn't be far from the truth. By Sithis, if she knew that Lucien had been sent back to the void she would have never allowed that wench leave the Sanctuary! Who knew how long he had been gone, and when she could summon him again for answers. Svenja wouldn't have been able to kill him. She wouldn't have, rather. Could it have been an accident? Could this personal business have been truly personal and had absolutely nothing to do with the misfortunes the Family had been dealing with? She then recalled what Mariella had said about the letter telling about a member of their Family who had been visiting officials within the Imperial Legion. She then clenched her fist. To think she trusted her loyalty to the Brotherhood!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone slip into the seat across from hers. The person folded their hands on the table, leaning in. "I wish to be alone." She snarled.

"Oh? How common! How usual for a dark elf to wish to be alone! Oh, tsk-tsk! Very anti-social, as usual. I wonder, will you ever open up to me? Truly?" The man laughed an all too familiar laugh.

A horrified look drew across her face as her gaze met his. There in front of her was a man dressed in high quality leather... And a jester's hat. He oofed as she leaned in across the table, grabbing him by the collar. "What are you doing here?" She rasped.

"I thought you'd be more happy to see Cicero." He whimpered as he rubbed his neck, Madrale sitting back with her arms crossed. Talen-Jei returned with her bread and cheese, then pouring water into two wooden cups.

"Would you like something to eat as well, sir?"

"Why, yes! Now that you ask! I would like the same as the lady here." Madrale rolled her eyes at this, Talen-Jei then walking over to another table.

"You were supposed to stay put in the sanctuary." She said with disdain once the waiter was out of earshot.

"You can't just disappear like that all the time without worrying people!" He argued, then shooting her his own look of disappointment. He laughed as she growled at him. "Have you been possessed by a wolf's spirit?" She shook her head again, then leaning forward again.

"I was tracking Svenja here. If I went back to report to everyone about my movements, I would have never been able to track her. And for the_ love_ of _Mephala,_ get rid of that ridiculous hat!"  
Cicero scowled as he slowly removed the hat from his head, holding it endearingly. "If that were so, then I would have never been able to track you now would I? Unless you're saying Cicero is a better tracker than you are. Besides, I thought you liked Cicero's hat!" He smiled lightly as she grumbled again, shaking her head.

"Your food, sir." Talen-Jei placed Cicero's plate in front of him. Rubbing his hands together, Cicero ripped a chunk off from the loaf. "Is there anything else I could get for you two?"

In the same moment Madrale opened her mouth to say no, Cicero did as well and was the first to speak. "What else do you have to offer?"

"Well... I have some cocktails. They're of my own creation, I'm still in the... Experimental phase. If you'd like to try them, I'd be ever so grateful to get your reviews. First is the "Velvet Lechance" which is a mixture of blackberry, honey, spiced wine and a touch of nightshade... perfectly safe, I assure you. Second, we have the "White-Gold Tower" which is heavy cream with a layer of blended mead, lavender and dragon's tongue on top. Third, and only for the bravest of souls, we have the "Cliff Racer" which is Firebrand Wine, Cyrodiilic Brandy, Flin and Sujamma. And then there is my most recent creation, the "Caress of the Argonian Maid". It is another heavy cream mix, but with a variety of minced herbs which cause a calming affect many have reviwed as being very enjoyable and allows them to not worry about their anxieties nearly as much."

"Hnm." Cicero put a hand on his chin, thinking as he nodded his head at each option. He then looked over at Madrale, smiling. "I'd like to try your "Caress of the Argonian Maid", _two _mugs_ please_!" He watched as Madrale mouthed a no, but ignored her. "You're too tense, you need to relax a little!" He said as the argonian left once more.

"Taking risky beverages from an argonian isn't the way to go about it if one were in need of 'relaxing', Cicero! I need to concentrate at what is at hand! There could be a high treason within the Brotherhood right now."

The look on Cicero's face turned from foolish to grave, as he slowly lowered his gaze. "It is Svenja, isn't it?" He said in a low voice. She nodded her head. "I knew it! Cicero knew it from the start! She is a liar and a deceiver, and not in a good way. Since Cicero first laid eyes on her, he knew it! She claimed to have been from the Empire, in Cheydenhal, but has Cicero hever seen her there? No. That traitor, that harloting traitor!"

Madrale glanced at the stairs again, then returning to meet Cicero's gaze. "I'll admit, even I had my suspicions... But I never thought they were true, despite the woman's clear hatred for me." She then looked over at the stairs again. Cicero followed her gaze.

"Impatience isn't a good quality in an assassin, my Listener." He whispered. She glanced at him again, then sighing.

"I suppose you're right. Perhaps this has gone to my head too much." I always let things go to my head too much in situations like these, she thought. I don't want to risk botching up my job as the leader.

Cicero gave her a strange look. "What could you be thinking so intensily about? Please, just relax already! You'll burn yourself out. Yes, That is to be certain! That you will!"

Their drinks were then placed before them. "Two "Caress of the Argonian Maid"s!" He stood back, proud.

Madrale eyed her drink, slowly drawing a finger near enough to it to whipe a small amount of the froth off to taste. She looked up at the waiter. "What did you say the affect of this was?"

"Well, I've had mixed reviews. All enjoyed it, I assure you, but the affects were a bit different for everyone. Most said they had a rather... Joyous feeling afterwards. I can testify to it as well, since I drink all of my creations before I share them to customers, and it doesn't have any major affects when taken in modest helpings. I must be getting to the other customers, enjoy."

Cicero giggled as he put the mug to his lips. "You hear that? No major affects when taken in modest helpings! See? You see? Cicero does, but can you? You'll be able to relax a little and keep your eye out for the wench!"

Madrale picked up her mug hesitantly, drinking slowly as she glanced over to the staircase. Cicero howled, slamming it down with a large grin on his face. "It taste SCRUMPTIOUS! And what of your opinion, Sister, Hnm?!'

She took another gulp. "It is good."

"You see Madrale? Alcohol isn't bad! Cicero doesn't understand why Madrale always limits herself so much, even at the sanctuary. Only ONE bottle on occasion? Really now, and they say I'M crazy! Is being a little drunk once in a while so bad?"

She gave him a look, shaking her head, but despite her aprehension she was at the bottom of her glass before she realized it. When Talen-Jei came around again, she gave him her good reviews but Cicero was the only one who asked for seconds. She watched as Cicero shifted in his seat, looking at her in a way that made her rather... Uncomfortable. She was drawn to his eyes though, and found that they were glued to them, and it was hard to pull away for even a moment. Her eyes slowly wondered to his mouth, which was crooked into a small but goofy smile. He had a rather nice smile, when he wasn't acting like a maniac. She watched him in silence as he sipped away at his new mug. It looked as though he were about to break their silence when she noticed someone decending the stairs. She kicked his foot under the table when she identified it as Svenja, using her eyes to indicate to him to look over. When he did, he pushed his hat onto the floor, covering it with his boot. The both watched silently as she left the inn. Cicero raised his eyebrows at Madrale as she indicated for them to leave. Rather hesitant to leave his drink, he followed once Madrale placed a few septims on the table as she stood to leave.

They left throught the opposite exit Svenja left through, watching as she walked through the nearly empty streets. "Let's go!" Cicero said anxiously. "We can follow closer than this!"

"We aren't taking any chances!" Madrale whispered hoarsely.

Svenja decended into the lower level of the city. As they hurredly followed behind her as plainly and unsuspciously as possible, Madrale could feel her head becoming lighter. For a moment she felt sick. It couldn't have been getting to her head already, could it? Surely not! She knew she couldn't hold her liquor well, but she held it better than this! Cicero put a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head and continued on. Once they made it to the stairs, they saw Svenja as she entered a door; a door they both knew lead to the Ratway. So she was working with the Thieves Guild on something. Something against the Brotherhood. She knew she should have felt angry, no _infuriated _at this double betrayal. But for some reason, it just seemed rather... amusing? She placed a hand on her forehead as she began to stumble over the stairs. She put out her hands, sliding down the rest one by one until she reached the bottom.

"Listener! Are you alright?" Cicero whispered, serious at first but then laughing between words. As she looked back, she saw that he too was starting to lose his balance.

"WHAT was in that DRINK?" Madrale exclaimed. A few people looked over the rail of the upper level, some commenting that it was still rather early for drunks to be wandering about the city. Cicero wobbled slightly, then slowly sitting on a stair.

"Stuff, that's what was in that drink. Stuff. Stuff that makes you, HAHAHA, HAPPY!" He hit a hand against his knee, as he then burst out laughing. "HAPPY! HAPPY AS CAN BE! AHHHH Cicero knows this feeling! The madness! Not usually this mad, but sometimes! Sometimes yes! All on his own too! But not so wobbly, oh no not so wobbily! OH! CICERO feels FUNNY!"

"I thought that damn argonian said that there were little affects in small doses!" She sounded angry at first, but then began to giggle. She tried standing again, walking towards the Ratway gate.

"But Listener, you must think: what is a moderate dose for an argonian?" He barely took time to breath inbetween laughs as he held his stomach. "It's the perfect affect for those who want to drink and get drunk with happiness!"

"This, this is all YOUR fault," she said as she pointed at him, smiling from ear to ear. "YES! This is YOUR fault Cicero! I should have never taken a sip of that drink! Or maybe, or maybe... Just one more. HEHEHE!"

Cicero loped down the stairs, then putting an arm around her shoulder. She just smiled at looked up at him in a daze, getting happier it seemed by the minute. "Oh come now, it's fine! We've been worse! Come now, we are good enough to do this! And if we get caught, we can... We can... We can just slash! HAHA! YES! SLASH AND STAB AND KILL! YES CICERO LIKE THAT! Don't YOU? GREAT AND MIGHTY-" He then stumbled forward, bringing her with him. Madrale only laughed, putting a hand on his chest.

"Oh, you look so funny! All the TIME!" She giggled.

"How?"

"Oh, I don't know! It's just too funny! Hey, hey we should get out of here... There's no way we can... There's no way we can pull this off like this. HAHA!"

"Oh, but we could!" He said seriously

"We COULDN'T! Oh, we couldn't, we couldn't, we couldn't!"

He then swooped around to the front of her, their noses touching. He paused for a moment, looking at her seriously. "Are you really sure?'

"Yes, I'm sure!" She sighed, still giggling madly. "Why are you so serious, huh? Why are you so serious!"

"No, I'm not serious, YOU are the SERIOUS one!" He replied. When she burst out laughing, holding her stomach, he gave her a concerning look. She began traising his lips with a finger, looking at them with a smile that made his heart pound.

"Your smile is so nice... So funny." She then quickly looked up at the stairs, grabbing his wrist. "C'mon! C'mon Cicero, lets, lets go!" As she moved to go up the stairs, she triped, then cursing them. "Cicero, I COMMAND YOU to CARRY ME up these STAIRS! I COMMAND YOU TO LISTEN TO THE LISTENER! It is your DUTY, KEEPER!"

"Who's down there?" A guard called.

"Just a bunch of drunks," someone said as they passed by. "I know you're new around here, so I'll tell you now it's best to just leave them be. There will be more of them too. Just let them do their thing. If we're lucky, they'll fall into the canal and drown."

"Is that so?"

They both laughed at his, Cicero pulling Madrale over one of his shoulders. "I'll try to get up these stairs, but Cicero doesnt' know if he CAN!" He said in a sing song voice.

"Just do it anyway." She replied.

"You really ARE a bad drunk!" He laughed. "You only drank one! Cicero drank more and he's still not so drunk as you! Though he can feel it getting heavier. Oh Madrale, you're a horrid, HORRID drunk! You should not have drank that!"

"I suppose you're right." She said as they reached the top of the stairs. "But oh, who cares? What are we doing here anyways? Nothing! Life is too short in Skyrim to waste life! Oh and I do like that smile of yours." She put her arms around his neck, humming as she stared into his eyes.

"You know," Cicero began. "We had... Unfinished business that night."

"What unfinished busniess?" She said innocently, tilting her head to the side.

"You know, Cicero came to tell Madrale the other day! Before she left so suddenly? About us almost... Well, you know... Kissing..."

"Kissing?" She said as she tilted her head, giving him a confused, dazed look. "Kissing? Did you say kissing? Why didn't you say so, life is so short! So short!" She then grabbed his face, putting a solid kiss on his lips.

He froze from head to toe in shock. What had just... Happened? He could feel himself grinning, though he fought it. "Boy, you really are drunk Listener... Cicero should never give Madrale alcohol again." He began to blink heavily. "Cicero really... Really isn't sure if he'll be much better off than the Listener for much longer though... Pure madnesss... HAHAHAHA!"


	14. Forever and Always Yours

**A/N: **Have fun with this one (HeheHEHHH! :})

As a general announcement, I have started another TES fan fiction called 'Foolish Mortal'. For those interested, it is a romance between a _Dremora lord (OOHHH! AHHH!) _ and a Dunmer womer. Take a look.

Thank you again to all of my reviewers, especially my most loyal friends **Nalledia** and** Yumeshojo**! You guys are awesome and encourage me so much! :)

-Liliedove

* * *

Madrale slowly opened her eyes. She winced at the sudden brightness. Gingerly, she propped herself up with an arm, looking down at the floor as she painfully opened and closed her eyes in an attempt to adjust. She then noticed that her ears were ringing. She groaned, massaging her face with a hand. She ached all over her body, from what she had no idea. She did the best she could to process her thoughts, but kept drawing blanks. What was happening to her? As her eyes became comfortable with the lighting, she took in her surroundings. She was in a room, a bedroom to be exact: there was a large, fur covered bed behind her. She was on the floor, a warm, wooden floor... There was also a small fire place an arm's reach away. Was that where the light was coming from? But there was barely any fuel left for it to burn off of, and it was so small, as if it had been burning for many hours... Why was it so bright then? That didn't make sense. She held her head again, feeling rather nauseated. Oh no. It finally registered in her mind: she had been drunk the night before.

Then there came a groan, which sounded as if a bear had roared right into her hear, causing her to jump in her skin. Ugh! She pressed the palms of her hands against her ears, which rang louder for a moment. She then realized an arm lay across her lap, as if it were once wrapped around something but was now laying limply in place. She furrowed her brow as she looked to find Cicero up against her side, the arm being his own. Picking his hand up by the sleeve, she placed it beside his body on the floor; though that didn't do much good, since he was practically sticking to her skin. The action stirred him from his sleep, as he then pulled his hands beneath his belly to lift himself from the floor. He looked around, a dazed look on his face. He smacked his lips together before sinking back onto the floor.

"Make the accursed light go away!" He mumbled as he lay his head against the wood, his arms encircling his head.

"The fire isn't really that bright." She replied, then leaning against the back of the bed. Continuing to take in the contents of the room, she tried to piece things together. They were in Riften for a reason... Svenja! She was going into the Ratway! What ever happened? All could be lost if they didn't hurry: how could they have fallen asleep? She quickly stood to her feet, her intentions being to get out of wherever they were as fast as they could. However, as soon as she stood she made her way down again: it felt as though a thousand hammers all smashed together against her head! She growled, sitting on the bed frame.

Cicero turned over onto his back, whimpering again at the light. "What's wrong, Listener? Is something troubling you?"

Before she was allowed to speak again, the bedroom door creaked open. A face cautiously inched its way into the room, as if alert for danger. As soon as he lay eyes on them, however, he gave a sigh of relief, then opening the door fully. "You're awake I see." Now that she could get a better look at him, Madrale realized that the hooded man was a priest. He slowly entered the room, glancing around as if to check and see if anything were amiss. He looked at them again, expecting one to say something, but when he was simply greeted with silence he turned to look at the fireplace instead. "I apologize for the poor lighting, and surely it's cold in here now."

He approached it, taking some of the spare logs from the hearth and putting them into the fire. "There, that should warm the place. When I was told my room was in use, I didn't want to disturb you."

"Your room?" Madrale looked around once more.

Cicero, now fully awake, sat cross legged as he twisted a finger in his ear. "Everything is too loud." He muttered.

The priest stood, smiling broadly at them. "Well, now that you are both awake I think it is high time you eat something! We set some breakfast aside for you, but I'm afraid it will be cold now... But it's almost time for our mid-day meals! You can join me and the others at the table, if you wish." He made his way to the door. Madrale brought herself to her feet, not wanting to lose sight of the priest.

"Cicero, come." She said as she reached the door. Glancing back at him, she drew her head back as she watched him stand. "And put your pants back on while you're at it."

He looked down to see that beyond his curiass were bare legs. He crooked his head to the side. "Cicero doesn't remember losing his pants. Where could they be now?" He then began looking about the room, taking a minute before finding them. "Oh! Here they are! And my greaves as well!" He said barely above a whisper. "And here's your things too! All in a nice little pile! Only you aren't missing your pants... You're fully dressed. Strange, did Cicero go to relieve himself in the night and forget to put them back on? I can't remember... At least nothing silly of mine was showing, thanks be to Mother and this armor I've still got on! A little bit shorter, and whoops! Now that would be embarrassing.! Haha, don't you think?"He gave a lazy half smile, which was returned with a dull look. "Well someone's grouchy today." He muttered as he put his foot through one of the pant legs.

"Hurry up, we need to figure out where we are, and where Svenja is." She said as she crossed her arms.

"SVENJA?! Oh YES! The TRAITOR! I- urgh!" He held his head, pained by the volume of his own voice. Madrale sighed, then leaving. Cicero began to panic, hobbling as he attempted to put his greaves back on. "Wait, Madrale WAIT!"

Madrale found that there were two other priests who were now gathered with the one who spoke to them moments before, some giving them nervous glances as they spoke in low voices. There was an altar, and a couple rows of pews. Flowers were set in vases here and there, and heavy incense was in the air. She recognized the statue of the goddess on the altar, but something didn't quite register in her mind. It was clear to her now that she must have been drunk the night before, Cicero as well. She knew they had come to Riften to find Svenja, but that was all she could recall. And by Sithis, what in Oblivion were they doing in a temple? She could then hear Cicero trip out of the room they were in, still bending over to buckle things.

The conversation between the priests came to an end, and they simply looked at them helplessly. Then, one of them, a dunmer womer, approached them with a smile gracing her face. "Why, isn't it our lovely new couple! Did you two enjoy the pleasures of love and unity?" The look on Madrale's face was momentarily blank, and then became one of confusion. She looked at Cicero, who looked back at her with the same expression. The priestess looked between them for another moment, then biting her lip. "Come now," she said, beckoning them to follow her. "We have some bread you can eat, and some water: you must be thirsty." She sat them at a small table in the corner, then fetching a pitcher.

"Wait," Madrale began. "What do you mean?"

The womer gave another fake smile as she poured water into their cups as they sat down. Immediately they both picked up their cups, realizing they were completely parched. "Your marriage, of course! All praise be to our wonderful Mara! What else could I mean? Would you like a piece of bread? There is still a warm, freshly baked loaf from this morning! I kept it on the mantel for you."

Madrale glanced over at Cicero again, seeing his ungloved hand laying against the edge of the table. Horrified, she looked at her own bare hands, panic struck: there were matching rings on their fingers. Cicero began to piece things together as well, his eyes now wide in shock. He looked from his hand to Madrale's pale face, moving his lips but not letting out a sound. Madrale grabbed the priestess's wrists, which made the womer recoil. "I think there's been a mistake!"

"Calm down now, everything is okay." She replied, putting a hand on top of hers.

Madrale knocked it off, now puffing out her chest as she half stood from her seat. "NO, everything is NOT okay! What is the MEANING OF THIS? I want ANSWERS! NOW."

"Okay, okay! Settle down, I can't answer your questions if you kill me!" She shrieked, taking another step away from the table. The two priests watched from a distance, then talking to one another in low, frantic voices. One made his way towards the door.

"Dinya," the other called. She looked at them, then shaking her head.

"No, wait a moment! I can handle this, lets not get the Imperials involved." She replied, then glancing back at their two guests. Cicero then stiffened, looking around frantically.

"Imperials?! WHERE?" Cicero demanded, now standing with his dagger in hand. Madrale stood as well, reaching an arm over the table.

"Cicero, stop! We need answers!" She stated, a stern look on her face. Cicero looked at her, and then the hand on his arm. He flinched away from it slightly, sheathing his dagger. As he sat again, he mused himself with anything in the room, that is, except for her. She didn't mind this, for she herself was having a hard time looking at him. She was petrified by all the possible things that could have happened the night before. Had they...? She could feel the blood continue to drain from her face. She pushed the thoughts away, then putting her attention back on the priestess. "Well? You said you would give answers."

Seeing their calm demeanor, the priestess gave a relieved sigh. "Well, what do you want to hear? You and your husband here-"

"Companion."

The priestess paused at the interruption, pursing her lips as she looked between the defying look on her face and the still bashful face of the man. She huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "Look, like it or not you are married, and that is the way it is going to be. Marriage is something that bonds two people for a lifetime. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with one another! You should have thought twice before getting so horrendously drunk last night!"

Madrale gave her a look of disbelief. Try as she might, the fury in her voice could not be concealed. "WHO in their RIGHT MIND would MARRY TWO DRUNKARDS?!" Her face was red, her body now shaky and her heart nearly bursting out of her chest.

The priestess seemed to have had enough of them as well, becoming angry herself. "What _choice_ did_ I_ have? There I was last night, doing my last minute cleaning duties, when a pair of idiots walked into Mara's beloved temple! I could tell you were drunk from the first moment I lay eyes on you, and when I tried sending you on your _merry_ little way you threatened to _burn_ me to death along with the whole temple if I didn't marry you two! You were literally holding a ball of fire in your hands, ready to shoot at me at a whim if I didn't do things exactly how you wanted! I'm a priestess, not a warrior! Maramal was giving a sermon to the new guards, and Briehl was gods know where! What could I do but listen to your wish? I had to _give _you rings as well, a service we don't usually provide. Then you two babbled on to one another absurdly, and wandered into Maramal's quarters. He was kind enough to leave you two be when he returned, sleeping on one of the pews for your convenience."

"But, we didn't-" They both looked at Cicero, who then paused when he saw Madrale's stare. He looked at the ground again, and then up at the priestess. "We didn't..."

"Have sex?" She laughed. "_By the eight divine_, how should I know? I stayed as far away from you two as possible! Besides, it doesn't matter anymore whether you did it or not. You're married."

"Dissolve it. Dissolve the marriage." The look Madrale gave the priestess was cold, but it didn't seem to affect the womer's resolution.

"I'm sorry, truly I am, but there's nothing that can be done. Once you're married, you're married until death separates you..." She trailed off, not putting it past the strangers to go after one another's throats if this arrangement was as terrible as they were making it out to be. Rather, how she was making it out to be. She watched as they looked at one another. The poor man, squirming in discomfort. That womer could be the end of him.

Madrale gave her one last nasty look before standing. "Fine then. I'll be leaving." Cicero squared his shoulders as he saw her head for the door. Frozen in his seat, it took him a moment before he was able to bring himself to his feet.

"W-wait, what about your sword? Your cloak? You'll need that, won't you Lis- w, wife!" He winced when she shot daggers from her eyes at him.

"I don't need them. Let's go."

Darting through the door before it swung shut, Cicero swiftly caught up with her, following shortly behind. She walked stiffly in strides. She wouldn't even look at him now. He look at her desperate to fix it all, but fell into misery at the knowledge that he was the problem. "Madrale.." He murmured. He then frowned, sticking his nose in the air and sniffing. "Hey, Madrale. Do you smell that? Something, something is... burning." Madrale then stopped, taking a moment to sniff the air. With their thoughts on the issue of marriage put to the side, they suddenly realized their own surroundings. The sounds of flames crackling could be heard, as well as the that of an ecstatic crowd.

Madrale looked to the sky to find that large pillars of black smoke were rising in the air. Her blood went from boiling to frozen solid in the matter of seconds. Cicero put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a concerned look. "Madrale?" He walked around to face her, met with a distraught look on her face as she continued staring at the sky. He looked as well, letting out a sheepish laugh. "It looks as though someone's home is on fire! What a _pityyyy_." He then smiled a little, as if he had made a joke she should be laughing at. Instead of this, she lunged forward, setting him off balance and hopping on one foot. "H-Hey! Madrale, where could you be going in such a hurry? Really now, you're not going to be a hero now are you?"

As she went in flight, he bounded after her, pushing people out of the way as she navigated to the front of the crowd. Flames were touching the sky: no matter what amount of help were to be given, the structure had gone past any chance of salvation. In front of it stood Legionnaires, along with a woman dressed in rich robes and a crown. She was giving some sort of a speech. When he looked at Madrale again, he saw something others might have missed, but he could never. It was the slightest thing, but it was there: she was trembling. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

"And I, Laila Law-Giver, declare Thane Madrale Uvani as an enemy of the Rift. There is evidence to believe that she is none other than the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, a illegal organization of murderers!" At that, the crowd shivered, a wave of fear and disbelief protruding through baited breaths and worried words. "...Her penalty, when found, is _death_. Anyone who finds this traitor will be given a great reward! Those who associate with this murderer, this enemy of the Empire... Those who help her, or know her whereabouts yet do not speak, shall also be put to death."

As the crowd grew into an uproar of debate and zealousness, Cicero firmly grabbed Madrale's shoulder, standing close behind her. "Cicero thinks it is time for us to flee. Fight another day, Sister." She continued to stand firm in her place. Cicero glanced around nervously, eyeing the guards. He searched for the best way of escape.

"I've been back stabbed." She whispered.

Cicero continued to look around as he grabbed her arm. "We must go!" After giving first a gentle pull, and then a yank, Madrale returned to her senses and followed him. Cicero hummed softly to himself, looking from side to side as they turned their bodies to get around the stirring crowd. Guards stationed at the gate watched them, but took no action to go after them. Of course, to them they were simply a couple: a warrior carrying his lady on an arm. Perhaps they believed that she felt sick from all the smoke and flame; at least, that was what Cicero wanted them to believe. "Just a few more steps, and we will be free, my queen." He said gently. "One, two... one, two... one, two..."

A man amongst the mob turned and watched as they exited the crowd, squinting his eyes at them. He seemed rather hesitant, going between pointing and putting a hand on his chin, but that was all it took to alert the guards. As soon as they began shifting at their posts, the man took courage and let out an accusing hand. "THERE! THERE SHE IS! It's the TRAITOR! RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF US!"

"Oops, guess that plan didn't work, huh?" Cicero giggled as the guards became alarmed and all eyes were placed on them.

"RUN!" Madrale exclaimed, grabbing Cicero's arm as they ran away from the gate.

"But where do we go? That was our only exit!" He yelled excitedly. They were now running side by side, all the guards of Riften now on their tails. As they ran towards the market place, they found that they had been surrounded.

The Redguard from the day before was at the front, a warhammer gripped between his hands. He snarled at them, his nose flared. "I knew you were trouble from the first time I lay eyes on you, elf!" He spat. "I won't let you get away! I'll _tare_ you to pieces!"

"What do you want us to do, Listener?" Cicero said in a low voice as they stood helplessly, the wall of soldiers growing thicker by the second. "Do we SLICE and DICE these dogs to PIECES?Mhmhmhm! OH, PLEASE SAY YES!"

Despite their predicament, she could tell that there was a smile on his face. His apparent trust in her decision making was rather... inspiring. "No, that won't do I'm afraid. I've known many of the townspeople over my past 7 years here as Thane, and I'd rather not kill all of them."

"Oh!" He whined in disappointment. "They wouldn't all die, not all. Just some!"

She snickered as she shook her head. "Stay back to back with me. Follow my every movement, otherwise it will be you who gets killed." He nodded his head, then getting into position. She then sprung into action, launching bolts of lightning from her hands as she made a sweeping circle around them. The soldiers in the front jumped back, taking in the new situation. Cicero laughed as he looked at the towering walls of electricity, letting out a whistle.

"So that's your magic, huh?" He exclaimed. "ALL HAIL THE LISTENER! SERVANT OF THE GREAT NIGHT MOTHER AND LORD SITHIS! ALL SHALL FEAR HER AND HER KEEPER!"

Madrale didn't allow a single moment to be lost, standing on the railing while creating a frost tunnel down into the water to shield their escape from the legionnaires swarming the lower level. Giving one final touch, she opened a portal, summoning a Storm Atronach where they once stood. That would keep them occupied... Giving Cicero a nod, the two jumped down the tunnel that was already being worn thin by Imperial mage's fire.

As they surfaced the water, Cicero spun around until he found Madrale. They both looked up as the sound of a whistle fell between them: the archers were already positioned. Madrale looked around as if she could see past the ice: her memories of the city's layout, were enough for her to devise a plan. After another moment, she turned to Cicero."We need to swim to the wall. It's more like a dam or a gate, I recall it being low; low enough for me to make a platform for us to get over it. I'll make an ice ledge for us to climb up on. Do you have any frost spells to aid me in this?"

Cicero shrugged with a laugh. "Oh, Cicero isn't a mage, you are! You know that! Cicero _sticks _and STABS! You are the one who BURNS and _freezes_. And zaps... And summons scary, SCARY things! Well now, doesn't Cicero serve a great mistress worthy of praise?"

She smiled a little, making his grin grow. "I should be able to do it on my own. Watch my back."

"Why, of COURSE!" He cackled. They dove under the bottom lip of the ice, swimming as close to the muddy floor as possible as they made their way beneath the docs. The legionnaires had kept a watchful eye on the perimeter of the ice tunnel, however, and quickly spotted their movements once they exited. Cicero did the best he could to keep up, having to watch for fire and ice as well as the arrows being shot at them. Madrale surfaced a few feet from the wall, generating a ball of white flurries between her hands as she kicked to keep it above the water. The foundation was barely erected when a whirl of frost swept over the water towards them. Cicero took hold of her waist in an attempt to move her out of its path without disturbing her spell. He cringed as the right side of his back and shoulder became partially frost bitten.

With one last push from Madrale, the ledge was as complete as it was ever going to be. Immediately, Cicero ran up the ramp, grabbing and leaping over the dam with Madrale shortly behind. Few soldiers were posted around the fishery docs, which gave them the opportunity to make a run for it once they reached land.

"We MADE it, WE MADE IT!"Cicero sang, clutching his numb shoulder. "You did it, you really did it! Cicero knew you could do it, for you are the LISTENER! Great and powerful, THAT YOU ARE!" He laughed merrily, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Madrale glanced at him, panting without a word as they followed the water's edge towards the wilderness.

* * *

Madrale sat with her head in her hands as she stared into the small fire. She looked up briefly as Cicero came marching through the brush with a bundle of sticks in his hands. He snapped a few of the branches against his knee, arranging them as he liked best in the fire. After fussing over it for another minute, he glanced down at Madrale, a down trodden look on his face as he sat on a rock with a few feet in between them. They had run until their legs could not carry them any more, until they knew they would be a safe enough distance away from any pursuers. False tracks, changes in direction: they took as many precautions as possible. There was no possible way they could find them now. As soon as they had found a good place to stay for the night, Cicero removed his curiass and chemise for Madrale to see to his injury from the frost. Words between them were few, limited things such as 'how does this feel?', 'is it any better now?' and 'we should have ate before we left the temple'. With that settled, their thoughts and emotions returned from the thrill of battle to the chaos of that morning. A deadly silence lay in the gap between them.

"Hnm, hnm hnmmmhnmmm HNMMMM!" Cicero hummed to himself as he observed his own ring. He glanced at Madrale, who continued to stare into the flames with a straight face. That unreadable, straight face... "Da-da-DA! DE-Te-he-HE! Snap the lute across me KNEE! Hehehe!" He muttered to himself. He looked at her again, pursing his lips as he then rubbed his fingers with his thumbs. "It wasn't so bad, was it?" When he looked up, he saw that she hadn't even given him a glance. "We're both alive, aren't we? Yes, yes... A-and Cicero think that was a great adventure! A great fight, no? You showed those damn Imperial bastards that they couldn't take you down! No, NO! Not the Listener! Hnmmm..." She gave him the smallest of glances. After another pause, he gathered his courage. "Yes, mighty indeed, that you are, but Madrale we really must talk."

"I suppose we do."

His heart jumped at her response. Licking his lips, he too began to stare into the flames. "We're married. I do wonder what happened last night, but what is done is done, is it not? This was least expected, who would have THOUGHT? HEH! We can make this work though, can't we?" She remained silent. Still unreadable as ever, which was certainly not a good thing for Cicero! How could he know her thoughts if she refused to show them? Refused to speak them? Cicero put his fist across his chest. "Cicero declares that he will be a loyal to our relationship, and will protect you: forever and always! Of course I was already doing that, hehehe, but now even more so! What is it you think? Cicero can't read that bland face of yours now can he? No, sometimes but not now. You're like one of those statues! Ehh, Cicero, uh..." He drifted off, unsure of what to say next. He then sighed.

Madrale turned her head to look at him. The corner of her lip twitched as if she were about to say a thing, but then had trouble deciding whether or not she wanted to say what she was going to say. She sighed as well, shaking her head solemnly. "I don't know Cicero, I really don't know about all of... this. I really shouldn't have accepted the drink last night, I knew better but I forsake my better judgment. Just don't speak a word of this."

He paused tilting his head as he looked at her. "Don't speak a word of this?" His tone was one that wasn't so much confused as giving her a chance to say things weren't how she made them sound.

"Don't tell anyone when we return home. We already have enough problems, we don't need to add this to the stress everyone is feeling. Just think of how they'd react!" She huffed. "The Listener runs off, the jester follows, Svenja betrays us, and then after days of worrying the Listener and the jester returned with the news that they're newly weds! Because they got drunk while trying to collect information! No, that wouldn't do... Not now."

Cicero became silent as his heart dropped in his chest. He had hoped, secretly, that a day like this would come, but not like... this. Of course Nazir would be he most skeptical of them all, but because it was something the Listener decided upon he would have to accept it. But now... now even the Listener was against their union. Perhaps he had imagined it, the feelings he thought she had. Perhaps they were never there, rather it was simply his mad delusions of wanting to be with her that fabricated these apparent feelings he thought she had for him?

Deep down, somewhere beneath her mask, he had thought _for sure_ she had feelings for him too. Could she still? No, OF COURSE not! WHY would such an AMAZING creature, such a beautiful, MAGNIFICENT being such as herself EVER give him a second thought? Him, the troublesome clown. Him, the babbling idiot who spoke out of turn and followed her around like... What did Nazir and the un-child say? A pestering devil who could throw himself at her, but would never be the least bit interested in by her?

Maybe he was right, maybe he was just annoying. Maybe she only spared him because the ghost of Lucien told her it would be unwise to kill him, and she only accepted him back into the family because of their small numbers. Maybe Madrale went to Nazir for loving instead of him, because who would want to be with a delusional, mad freak like him? NO ONE! NOT HER!

He felt a wave of heat rise through his face as his eyes gave in to trailing tears. Shocked by them, he quickly wiped them away, horrified of how she would react if she saw them. As he continued battling against them, he turned his head away in shame, mentally kicking himself for his weakness. "Stupid, stupid Cicero!" He muttered to himself. He then stood with the intention of saying he was going to relieve himself in order to get away for a time. Before he could however, she spoke again.

"Cicero... I don't know what happened last night, and I don't know what is going to happen in the future now... I really don't know, and I have never dealt with a situation like this before... I just, I need time. Cicero, really I-" A howl rang through the air, causing her to fall silent. The hair on the back of Cicero's neck stood on end once again, as a sense of fear hit him square in the face. They both stayed where they were, frozen. "That was not a wolf's howl, was it?" She said in a low voice.

"No, no that wasn't. Cicero knows better than anyone: THAT WAS NOT A WOLF'S HOWL!" Madrale stood to her feet as Cicero became frantic, running like a chicken without its head. He turned to her, dancing from foot to foot. "We have to go, we have to go! He will hunt is! He can SMELL US! He knows our STENCH! It was that Redguard! You saw it didn't you, that look on his face as he took in our scent in Riften? You must have recognized it, you must have because of Arnbjorn! WE MUST RUN! THOSE DEVILS ARE FAST, HE WILL BE HERE SOON! HE'LL TARE US TO PIECES!" He loped into the thicket, turning back to see that Madrale hadn't moved an inch. He ran back, howling himself as he turned in circles, then running up and grabbing her arm. "HE WILL BE HER ANY SECOND! ANY SECOND! COME, COME! COME NOW!"

"I will not run, Cicero." She stated, standing tall.

He looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "NO! You CANNOT STAY!" He exclaimed, pulling on her arm again. "YOU WILL DIE! PERISH! BE NO MORE! IT'S NOT TIME FOR YOU TO GO TO THE VOID, NO NOT NOW!"

"I WILL NOT DIE!" She barked, then calming herself. "This has been, by far, one of the most troublesome days of my life. That being said, I will not add being chased by a _werewolf_ onto my list of shames! We will fight, and we will _kill _this werewolf, do you understand?" He slowly dropped his hands to his sides, understanding that she meant what she said and nothing would change her decision. At his resignation, she turned as another, louder howl was sounded. Breathing out steadily, she drew back her arms. As she summed energy in her hands, her voice became soft and gentle. "Did you forget Cicero? I'm a master conjurer; I don't conjure up what mere necromancers might when you come across them. You yourself said you haven't seen me use my magic... Don't you want to see it now? Don't you want to see that you did not wait 14 years for your Listener in vain? Do you think that the Champion of Boethiah can't take on a werewolf? Someone who has dedicated decades to mastering the arcane arts? Have some faith in me: Mother chose me for a reason."

Cicero swallowed, taking in her words as he heard a rush through the grass and leaves not five stone throws directly in front of them. As the seconds slowly passed and the disturbance came closer and closer, the Listener threw whatever was in her hands, two portals then opening before them. As the thing bounded from the brush, it was suddenly brought to a halt as it rammed into two figures. As Cicero hid behind the Listener, he peaked over her shoulder to see what had happened as two unearthly voices spoke with much agitation.

"I am summoned again!" One bellowed.

"You shall die, foolish mortal!" The other one shouted as he pushed the burly creature back with his claymore.

"Listener..." Cicero uttered in amazement. "Those are... And, two? Two of them? You can do that?"

"I don't like to disappoint." She said as a small smile grazed her face.

The beast stretched out on its hind legs, now clearly visible in the fire's light and standing heads above the dremora lords. Cicero trembled, imagined pain returning to the scars left from Arnbjorn's claws. As he sniffed the air, his gaze set on the Listener and he growled. He bounded back towards the trees, then turning around. Reading his movements, the Listener lifted a hand by her waist. The beast, on cue, began rushing forward, leaping over the dremora. Right in a row, the Listener threw multiple fireballs at the werewolf, causing it to take a few steps back as it shook the fire from it's matted hair. It didn't have much time to think, for the dremora began cornering him, taking its attention away from the Listener and forcing it onto them. It struggled against them, lunging at them with claws and fangs. He began gaining the upper hand, laughing between his teeth as he tore through their strong armor. What he didn't expect was that for each and every one he killed there was a replacement by the time the one he clobbered faded out of the realm of Nirn. Growing tired after many of these repeated cycles, the beast glared at the Listener, snarling in irritation and hatred towards her. Processing that it would run out of its energy before the mage would, it turned in retreat, bounding into the forest with the dremora lords following in pursuit.

As the sound of shouts and branch snapping faded in the distance, their surroundings became still again. Crickets mustered up the courage to sing once more, and the sweet sound of crackling wood could be heard again. Cicero's breath was still shaky. As he stared at the back of her head, he saw her in a way he never had before. He had always figured that she was great, had always said that she was great, but never before did he know that she was great. He knew now that she was the great and mighty Listener. So mighty, so strong, so magnificent and terrifying! The Great Listener of Mother's choosing! And whether or not she shared his feelings, this one thing stood out bold and true in his mind: that this great and powerful, mighty and strong, terrifyingly beautiful Listener was his wife, and as his wife he would stop at nothing to win her affections even if he had to start from scratch.

* * *

**A/N: **And with that, let me say that for those who plan on following me in future fan fictions, you should uh... Recall this scene. Just saying. Cheers.

-Liliedove


	15. Pruning

**A/N: Hello dearies! I recall forgetting to respond to some anons... So here we go:  
**Summerangelz: How Cicero acts when you marry him? Well, when you propose he says he is interested in the Listener indeed, and once you are married he gives you shiny, CLINKY gold! And the option of a sweet roll or a carrot when you ask for a meal.

Then someone asked what would happen if the Joker and Cicero met... If disarmed and alone, I think Cicero would overtake him. If not... Cicero would be a dead man soon after things went south between the two. I feel like Cicero has more manners/gets along better with people than the Joker, because the Joker is just always nasty while Cicero gets friendly with just about anyone.

**-Liliedove**

* * *

Nazir stood at the cooking pot, gently dropping mutton he had cubed into it with a handful of seasonings he had purchased from a passing merchant on the road. He had been looking forward to using it for some time, saving it for a recipe his father had taught him long ago... He hummed a laugh. How long ago had it been since he killed his own father? Time sure did fly.

Babette sat at the table reading a book. Her nose wrinkled as the aroma from the stew wafted over to her. Closing the book with her thumb tucked in to keep the page, she glared in Nazir's direction. "That's not garlic I smell, is it?"

Nazir paused in his stirring, giving her a shrug. "I don't know. It was a mixed bag."

"It better not be," she scowled. "You know I can't eat that stuff!"

He rolled his eyes, adding an extra dash of the seasoning. "I know better than to believe that old wives tale about vampires and garlic. Trust me, in my younger days I found out the hard way."

Babette bit the inside of her cheek as she narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't_ like_ garlic, Nazir. It causes horrible breath and makes me feel itchy for the rest of the day!"

"Cry me a river, darling. You'll survive. Besides, it's probably just your imagination: who knows if there's actually garlic in here?"

"_I do_, I can smell it!" She growled. Sighing, she opened her book again and buried her face in it. "I guess I'll just have to pull out the pheasant roast I preserved."

Nazir turned to look at her, surprised, and had a touch of envy in his voice when he spoke. "You still have some of that stuff?"

Babette grinned wickedly from behind her book. The moment was short lived, however, due to the sound of the Door opening. They both looked expectantly. When the Listener came marching in, Babette put her book down and Nazir approached the stairs.

"There you are!" He exclaimed. We were wondering when you'd return! You left so suddenly." The look in the Listener's eyes made him feel uneasy. Her demeanor appeared as relaxed as it usually did, but he could tell that something was amiss. The look in her eyes showed but an uneasy calm, the type you see before a storm rains down.

He then noticed that Cicero was standing a few paces behind her, fidgeting wordlessly. He wrung his wrists and fingers, his gaze mostly laying on the cold floor of the sanctuary; he didn't even glance towards the Night Mother's coffin, not even once. Goosebumps rose on his arms and legs: something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. He slowly made his gaze return to the Listener who was now looking at him with a look in her eyes that he had never seen in her before, which made him take a few moments to register what it was. Subtle though it was it was there, and the deeper he stared into her eyes as she slowly descended the stairs the clearer it became: blood lust. She stopped in front of him.

"Listener?" He couldn't move from his place, as if by some means she was restraining him from moving at all. He might have laughed about it, but it seemed as though she had cut out his tongue as well.

"Nazir." He was already familiar with the tone she was conveying. Before it would have been Astrid who approached him like this, with this demeanor and chilling aura. Only with Astrid, her voice came off like velvet: refined, and soft to the ear even if it cut to the bone. But with Madrale, there was no luxury: it was cold, rough, and scratchy, causing his typically calm inner man to experience a sense of fear. She scanned the room, searching. He furrowed his brow as she looked at him again. What she said next made it deepen all the more, a weight falling in his gut. "Is Svenja home?"

He blinked a few times, weighing the implications behind her question. "She is... Why, is there a problem?"

"Where is she?"

His lip twitched, as he then pursed his lips. This wasn't a question, this was a command to relay intelligence. He turned his head slightly, looking towards the back end of the room out of the corner of his eye. "She's in the sleeping quarters with the initiates."

She hnmed, her jaw tightening as she also looked towards the back hall. She then lifted a hand, throwing a portal beside him. Nazir jumped back, a shocked look on his face.

"What in Oblivion!" He yelled, taking another step back. "What's the meaning of this?!" Her attention remained at the dremora now standing before her. Nazir clenched his fists, now growing furious. "Madrale!"

"Go down that hall," she pointed, "and go down the only other hall after the next room. Retrieve me a woman by the name of Svenja. Leave the boy and the young woman alone."

Nazir turned and gave Babette a look of disbelief. She watched from her seat, curious and somewhat confused as well, her eyes following the dremora as he charged past them. Nazir looked back at the Madrale once more, approaching her.

"What's going on?" He said in a low voice.

She glanced at him, her lips drawn thin. "We have a traitor in our midst."

He gawked at her, then looking between her and the back hall. "You're serious? You're really serious? You think someone betrayed the Brotherhood? No, you think _Svenja_ betrayed the Brotherhood?"

Her silence was her response. The sound of angry shouting and struggle rang through the sanctuary. After a long moment, the dremora returned through the hall entrance, holding Svenja in mid-air with one arm."LET ME GO! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? LET ME GO YOU BEAST! UNHAND ME!"

"My lord." The creature growled, thrusting her forward.

When Svenja's eyes met with Madrale's, she snarled. "You! This is your doing!"

"It is." The fire in the Listener's eyes had grown.

"And for what reasoning?" She growled, a fire now blazing in her own eyes.

"You have committed crimes against the Dark Brotherhood, your Listener, and the Lord Sithis; those of whom you swore to serve and to protect upon swearing your allegiance to the Dark Brotherhood."

"That's preposterous! I have done no such thing!" She tried to break free from the dremora's grasp, only to gasp in pain from the tightening of his fist around her bicep. Nazir watched, speechless.

"Svenja!" The Listener looked past her at Bulmond, who stood frozen in the back of the room, a desperate look on his face. Mariella ran in behind him, making eye contact with the Listener from across the room. She looked from her to Svenja and the dremora, nodding her head in understanding. The Listener then continued putting her gaze back on Svenja.

"Of the Five Tenets, you have disobeyed the second: **never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis**. Your sentence will be ostracization from the Dawnstar Sanctuary. Never again are you to step foot in this place, for as long as you shall live. May the Dread Father decide your fate."

"No, you can't do that!"

"Bulmond!" Mariella exclaimed, pulling him back as he began moving towards them.

Nazir put a hand on one of the Listener's shoulders. "Madrale, this is madness!" He said in a raised voice. "Where is the reasoning behind this?"

"Yes, what reasoning do you have? Where's your evidence, huh? WHERE'S YOUR PROOF! WHAT KIND OF A LEADER ARE YOU!" Svenja struggled again, the dremora then lifting her feet above the ground.

"A gardener must prune his trees, or else the nutrition for the good branches will be taken by the bad ones." She said in almost a whisper. She then turned. "Cicero, show them to the door."  
The small man jumped in his skin when she called his name, his eyes bulged and darting about nervously. "Y-yes! Yes Listener!" He yelped, then jogging up the stairs, shortly followed by Svenja and the dremora once it was given the order.

Still baffled, Nazir gave her a disgruntled look. She then nodded towards the table. "Sit, Nazir... Bulmond, Mariella. There is much for us to discuss."

* * *

Cicero walked swiftly through the Front hall, staring at the walls ahead of him. The journey home had been one full of silence. He hated that silence; a barrier, created by the womer he adored. All he could do was look on, look on and attempt to gain her attention with his services to her to make things convenient for her. Would this vicious cycle ever end? Must fate be so cruel to him?

By the time they neared Dawnstar, the release of Madrale's rage had already begun. In her silence, of course. She wasn't the Madrale he once knew, oh no, this was nothing like her. He knew her anger was not a thing made for him, but could only wonder... Perhaps it was? For it was Cicero who convinced her to drink. It was Cicero who followed when he should have remained in the Sanctuary.

"Are you really going along with this?" He glanced back at Svenja, who looked at him with desperate hope.

"Of course... A traitor is a traitor." He said bitterly.

"But I am not a traitor!" She exclaimed.

Cicero laughed sardonically, stopping. Svenja '_oof'_ed as the dremora suddenly put her on her feet as they came to a dead stop. He turned to face her, a hand on his dagger. "What LIES! What PATHETIC LIES in an attempt to convince CICERO to reason with the Listener! Not that she would listen to poor Cicero anyway..."

"I'm not lying!"

"Onward." The dremora glared at Cicero.

Cicero looked up at him, hesitant at first to say anything. He then looked at Svenja, squinting as he came face to face with her. "You are the one who caused all of this! You are the one who keeps dabbling where you shouldn't! Should have just followed the Listener, but no! Oh, NO! You just couldn't do that, COULD YOU? No, you couldn't! You betrayed the Dread Father, and you betrayed the Night Mother. You betrayed the Brotherhood, and most of all you betrayed the Listener who has always been gracious to you. Far too gracious if you were to ask Cicero." He folded his arms against his chest. "You, I have met pretenders and betrayers before, but you! YOU! You burned down her home, and you've given away the identity of the Listener!" He jabbed her with his left hand, then freezing for a moment in horror as he drew it back, only relieved when he realized he had his gloves on; for he had changed back into his regular attire before they had returned home. He could still feel the new thickness between his fingers where his wedding ring lay. He then clenched his fist. "You have ruined things between _us_... And now our problems with the damn Imperial Legion will be the death of all of us! All because of _you _and your babbling MOUTH! And you want Cicero to plea for you?" The look of genuine surprise on Svenja's face made his stomach twist.

"What?" She whispered. "I, I didn't know about any of this!"

Cicero hmphed, then approaching the door. "You're quite the deceiver, Svenja. I will congratulate you on that much." He activated the door, then looking at her once more. He spoke in a sour tone. "Goodbye, Sister."

Svenja's lips quivered slightly as the cold air hit their faces. The dremora then prodded her forward. She looked back bitterly as Cicero gave her a small wave, the Door closing behind them.

Cicero slowly trudged back to the Dining room. Nazir and Babette listened intently as Madrale told their tale. Rather, an altered version of their tale. He rubbed the knuckles around his ring finger together. Lightly exhaling through his nose, he made his way to the seat between Babette and a still enraged Bulmond. She was too busy listening to the news being told, but he could imagine the look Babette would have given him for avoiding the empty chair beside Madrale if she were less interested. It was difficult, trying to look at Madrale now. It used to be so easy, so natural, but now... Now it felt as though he always needed to keep his head bowed in shame. Despite it, he found himself still managing to glance up at her every few moments.

Nazir was leaning forward on the table, an appalled expression on his face. Babette was harder to read, but it was still obvious that she found the situation dire. Mariella seemed to share this expression, but all that Bulmond displayed was a silenced anger.

Madrale briefly mentioned the tragedy of her house, as if it weren't as important as Cicero knew it was in his heart. Knowing this, he cringed inside, and perhaps on the outside as well after she spoke.

"And you believe that Svenja was responsible for all of this?" Nazir questioned, a faint look that hinted towards him still not being completely convinced in the Listener's reasoning.

"No. That is to say, I believe that she is responsible for tipping off who I am to those who want to know our whereabouts." Her hands her folded across the table.

"Do you have any idea who these people she tipped off, or this person, is?" Babette interjected.

She nodded her head, bringing her hands up to rest her chin on them. "None other than _Madame_ Maven Black-Briar."

Nazir tsked, crossing his arms. "Of course! I had forgotten about her, it's been a while. She hasn't contacted us at all, despite demanding that she meets you. Perhaps she expected us to go to her, our delay creating her vendetta against you. She said that she was the one behind many of the contracts we were given, and that she would tip off the Legion if we didn't do as she said."

Babette fidgeted in her chair. "Perhaps during one of her contracts, Svenja ran into Legionnaires who were working for Maven Black-Briar. Then they struck a deal, and she's been working with Maven ever since."

"That sounds like it would make sense." Nazir murmured as he stroked his beard. "I still just can't believe that Svenja would betray the Brotherhood. I mean, she isn't the easiest person to get along with, but I just couldn't see her turning her back on the Brotherhood like this... It's a lot to swallow. So what are we going to do now?"

Cicero watched as Madrale pulled a rolled up piece of paper from her robes. It was something he saw her working on during one of their stops. She handed it over to Nazir, who gradually took it. "This is a letter to Maven Black-Briar." She began. "I want you to deliver it to her home in Riften, and to return with her answer."

"Me? Why, I'm honored." He snickered, a small smile grazing his face.

"I can never return to Riften, now that they know who I am... My time there is done. I can't be seen there, nor do I know what would happen if I show up in that woman's audience when everything is bent towards her advantage. No one will suspect you."

"You're right." He stood from his seat, his hands on the table. He looked from Babette to Cicero, Mariella to Bulmond, and then back to the Listener. "I suppose I should be heading out as soon as possible, no? If we are starting a war, we better do it already."

"I'm pretty sure it was Maven Black-Briar who declared war on us." Babette murmured, picking up her book again. "You better take some of that stew with you. We'll be waiting here for the response, and I don't want to be stuck smelling it."

* * *

Nazir leaned against the side of a building, watching as one wagon pulled away debris as another brought in new shipments of wood. It was as clear as day that Riften had become a victim of some event, no matter how one looked at it. There was simply too much damage clearly caused by different ways still on display for those who observed. The stains of blood on the boarded pathways, yet to be washed away by the rain, also screamed of death and chaos. The place the Listener's home once stood was still a pile of ruins, all heaped together in a dark mound of ash. The pathways around it were mostly avoided, as if the place were haunted by some devil.

Nazir glanced over towards the Black-Briar Manor. The Listener had told him to enter during late afternoon, a time when the lady of the house would be home with little occupation. He looked up at the sky, calculating the hour by the sun's position in the sky; a task rather difficult to do accurately due to the overcast weather. It may have still been rather early, but he doubted it would make much of a difference if he approached her now rather than later: he had watched her enter the manor hours beforehand, and she had yet to return to the outside world.

He felt the letter, which was tucked into his belt, sway from side to side as he walked towards the manor. He smiled to himself, imagining all the possible outcomes. War wasn't pretty, but it sure was interesting; especially when you were at the center of it. Slowly, he raised his fist and pounded it on the door. Nothing. He waited a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He knocked again, and still there was no answer. Grumbling, he went to knock again, but as he did the door swung open. Before him was an oily looking man, dressed in fine clothing and wearing straight lips across his face. The Breton's over all complexion reminded Nazir of a toad. His beady eyes looked up at him in an unwelcoming manner.

"And who might you be?" He croaked.

Nazir flashed him a smile, leaning against the other of the two double doors. "Tell Madam Black-Briar that a very important guest has arrived."

The short man squinted at him, looking him over thoroughly. He smacked his lips together a few times before making eye contact with him again, his views unchanged. "There are many who seek the audience of Madam Black-Briar, I cannot simply let one waltz in and bother her over contrite things. My question still remains: who are you?"

"Give her my description, and remind her of a particularly nice night during this past Mid Year. I'm sure she will be eager to see me then." He narrowed his eyes when the look the butler gave only expressed a continual stance of defiance. Fodling the hilt of his scimitar in his hand, he hummed. "I'm sure you've had a long day already, I have as well. Lets make this as convenient as possible for the both of us, yes?"

The man paused for a moment, staring at the sword. He looked back up at Nazir. "I will request an audience with Madam Black-Briar for you. Come inside and wait here for her approval."

"My pleasure." Nazir bowed his head slightly before stepping inside, the butler closing the door behind him.

"I will be back momentarily." The man declared, disappearing around the corner. Nazir began to look around, musing at objects in the room. As he began poking at a vase on display, the butler returned. "She will be seeing you in her study. Come right this way." He led him up a flight a stairs, down a hall, and through a door. Bowing, he closed the door behind Nazir, who found himself staring at the back of Maven Black-Briar. She turned and looked over her shoulder at him, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Its been a while." She began to slowly pace about the room, her eyes never leaving him. "I wondered when you might come about. I still haven't met your leader."

"Still dwelling on that are you? Then you're in luck." He pulled the letter from his belt, holding it out to her.

"Oh?" She gave it a look of interest, slowly taking it from his hand. "And what might this be? A message?" She unraveled it, beginning to read.

"_**Madam Maven Black-Briar**__,_

_One of the brothers of the Dark Brotherhood has notified me of your desire to met with me. _

_I believe we have much to discuss. I have sent this particular member back to you to deliver this message, since you are likely to remember his face. _

_Return him with a detailed response of where and when this shall transpire. _

_-__**The Listener of the Dark Brotherhood**_"

She lowered it from her face, a smile now spread across it. Walking behind her desk, she took a seat, taking out a fresh piece of paper. "Well then... I don't believe I know your name, but never the less whoever you are, your _Listener _as she calls herself will have her response." After another moment of writing, she folded her hands. "I will be looking forward to our business transactions in the future."

Nazir hmphed as she folded the now dry paper, dripping wax on it and stamping it. He took it gingerly from her hand, his eyes flickering from the paper to her face. "Then I best be saying farewell to you now, Maven Black-Briar."

* * *

Cicero lay awake in bed. Funny, how the room now felt somewhat empty without Nazir and the second Betrayer. Usually the snores coming from Bulmond were enough to lull him to sleep, but sleep seemed to have ran off with his wildest dreams as of late. He turned over in his bed again, pulling his furs over his shoulder. The Sanctuary had been eerily quiet since they returned. He wasn't quite sure why, it wasn't as though anyone was quieter than usual. Babette was always silent, talking little and far between these days. Bulmond was as lively as ever, telling his tales over and over, to the point where one could ask anyone to tell it to them. If not that, he was sulking over the loss of Svenja. The mage girl who pretended not to be a mage, oh what a silly notion when mages were so WONDERFUL, she was also a quiet one but she was no more quiet than she usually was. So what was the problem? Why was it so painfully silent?

He bit his lip, tossing over again. Madrale was always shutting herself up, but now more than ever he could hear the echoing silence bouncing off the sanctuary walls and into his head. So painful, SO painful! He suddenly paused in his thoughts as he heard shuffling and the sound of a door opening and closing. It was her door. She had been stirring from her sleep every night since they returned home. He knew, because every night he had been lying awake, pondering. Never did he dare to follow her out, but instead his thoughts of her only intensified. Thoughts of how things would have went, should have went if things were well between them. He would be sleeping in her, no _their _bed, beside her, and he could comfort her now in this hard time. As much as a fool like him could comfort, anyway.

Why was it so hard now? Before it had been so easy to speak with her, so easy to touch her... Now he had trouble even looking into her eyes. Touching her was like touching poison, and getting a single word out of his mouth took all the strength he could muster. It was too quiet. Everything was too quiet now. He turned over once more, then throwing his covers back.

He quietly meandered out of his room, then walking into the practicing ring cautiously. She must have been in the dining room, or perhaps she was working at the upper alchemy table in the front room? He slowly padded up the long stairway, brushing his hand against the wall as he went. He could hear his heart beat in his ears, nervousness rising at the thought of running into her alone, and at this hour. Perhaps turning back was best... No! No, Cicero mustn't turn back! He mustn't! He puffed up his chest only to sink again a moment later as he felt pressed in by all sides. Where was the jester now? The jester that laughed through his last breath? Where was he when Cicero truly needed him? He too was silent now; did he abandon Cicero?

With baited breath, he stopped at the end of the bridge. There she was. Right there in front of him, she stood before the Night Mother. And she was... She was muttering, angrily. She then sighed, shaking her head. She began pacing, back and forth with a hand on her temple. She sat on the bench nearby, her shoulders slumped with a sob or two before she shook herself off. "Why? WHY? Why did this happen? What did I do wrong?" She said feverishly. "Am I not good enough? I've done all you've asked! And you give me this _mess_ to deal with?"

Cicero took a small step forward, his mouth gaped as if he were about to speak. It wasn't her fault, she was allowed these problems because she was doing everything right! She needed to know this, but... He couldn't bring himself to speak. He pursed his lips.

She stood again, pacing before the Night Mother's coffin. She then put her hands on its doors, flinging them open with a deep squeak of the hinges. Cicero stretched his arm out, as if he were going to stop her, but then he stopped himself: she was the Listener, she had every right to see her face to face, freely, at any time. She stood there, looking at her. "Tell me, Mother! Tell me what to do!" She said in a low voice. Cicero lowered his gaze, giving a small sigh. How many times had he been in the same position as she was in now? He knew better than she, that Mother wasn't going to speak. But then again, she was the Listener and he was not. She would answer her in time, she just didn't know it yet; just as he hadn't known it for fourteen years. He put a hand on the wall, glancing behind him as he turned to leave. He didn't like seeing her that way... But what power did he have to change that? What power did he have when he was simply one of the problems that caused her distress?

"Oh Mother..." He whispered. "Perhaps you shouldn't grant all of Cicero's deep, dark wishes."

"Cicero."

He froze, paralyzed in his step. He could feel her gaze on his back, and he dare not turn around to meet it. His heart beat hard against his ribcage, the desire to run as fast as he could away from her flooding his mind. He heard her footsteps stop shortly behind him.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" She questioned. Her voice was quiet, but she sounded like her usual self. He still felt uneasy, as if he were caught in a dreadful act.

"Cicero could ask you the same question, Listener." He replied, staring down at the wooden planks beneath his feet. "Couldn't sleep. Too many... Thoughts."

"I see..." A silence lay between them again. Cicero licked his lips, which suddenly felt dry. He sensed her turning away from him, walking back towards the front room. Slowly he turned his head to watch her go.

"Madrale," he called softly. She paused in her steps. He licked his lips again, his hands now writhing together. "You needn't worry about... Our marriage. Take care of us all, that's what you need to concentrate on and Cicero knows you can do it. Just... Don't worry so. But Madrale, please tell this fool what your thoughts are on him..." He whispered. "Is the union between Madrale and Cicero really so horrid a thing? Is it really?" She remained silent. He then turned to face her, a serious look on his face. "Cicero has had enough silence in his life! ENOUGH is ENOUGH! And you, oh you! You have no more excuses! You may stay silent, afraid to speak the words that admit that you have emotions for a mad man, but you do! YOU DO! Cicero can SEE it! He KNOWS!" He then turned again, and walked a few paces. "So Madrale, whatever you do, please stop lying to yourself. It won't change the truth. Even if you continue to lie to Cicero, keeping him in the retched darkness, alone in agony... Don't lie to your own mind: it will drive you crazy."

She stood, a faint look of being stunned showing all over her body. He then walked away, back to his bed where he would continue to think relentlessly though the night.

* * *

Madrale continued to stand where she was. The words Cicero spoke rung through her head endlessly.

She hated doing this: making him suffer so. She had always known, truthfully, that he fawned after her. She always knew that it seemed to be ever growing on his end, as well as... She set this fact on a shelf sitting in the back of her mind, long before any of this had happened. How could anything happen between them? How? It wasn't logical, it wasn't probable: and yet there they were, bound to one another in more than just a familiar way. She didn't like to admit to it, to allow herself to feel it. No, in all her years she never allowed herself to feel it. This thing was foolish. Love, was foolish. Why do such a thing? Why allow blinded judgment guide your path?  
She didn't want to hurt him, that was what she kept telling herself. But she knew that wasn't the only thing that worried her. No, there was something within her that mourned with him. And she didn't like to admit that.

* * *

When Nazir had returned to the Sanctuary, a meeting was gathered at the dining room table. Everyone sat in their usual seats, a current of excitement flowing through them as they watched the Listener pry the wax seal from the letter Nazir had returned with. She first read it over to herself, then looking at the expectant looks on their faces. She then cleared her throat, holding the paper out in front of her.

"_**Listener of the Dark Brotherhood**__,_

_I have received your underling and your message. I send him back to you in one piece. _

_It has been so long that I had thought you had forgotten me. It just so happens that I have the perfect arrangements for us to meet._

_On the 8th of Hearthfire, you are to attend one of the ambassador parties of Elenwen, an ambassador of the Thalmor. The Embassy is just north of Solitude. _

_You are to introduce yourself as Mirnelea Helbenar, a newly appointed Thane of the Rift. _

_I look forward to meeting you in person._

_**-Maven Black-Briar**_"

She lay the paper down on the table, laughing through her nose for a moment. "We'll be going along with this. It is the perfect place to make... a statement."

"Yes, to make a statement or to be killed." Nazir stated as he leaned back in his chair.

Cicero perked up, hopping on his heels as he perched on the chair. "But those are the best, no? The thrill, THE THRILL! The Listener is right! It is the perfect place! The perfect TIME! We shall make a statement! Ohhhh! Cicero can't WAIT another moment!" He squealed in delight. His mood was contagious, for Bulmond had a look of zeal on his face as well. However, he and Mariella remained silent, likely feeling as though they had little right to speak or even to hear things such as these.

The Listener smiled slightly as she looked at him. She then glanced over at Nazir with a raised eyebrow. "Do you oppose this?"

"Me? Oppose the chance to show those Imperial bastards what's coming? Of course not!" He laughed. "I've never had the chance to do something so thrilling in years!"

"Me neither." Babette added. "I've always been sitting around here, watching everyone else have most of all the fun."

The Listener's lips drew together as she frowned, looking between the two of them. "Now wait a minute, it will just be Cicero and I. We can't all go." Cicero gave a look of surprise, cocking his head to the side while wondering if his ears deceived him. A smile grew from ear to ear on his face.

Nazir leaned in across the table, gesturing with his hands. "Come now Madrale, it's infested with the Thalmor and the Imperials. Your safety aside, we all crave a piece of revenge on them for the pain they've put us through over the years. They have always been a thorn in our side, and always will be."

"He's right!" Bulmond stood from his chair, his hands on the table. When he realized all eyes were on him, he slowly sat again. "I mean, I may not have experienced all the things that the Brotherhood has over the years, but I have suffered greatly at the hands of the Imperials and their chums. I'll give anything to have a go at them now!"

Mariella grew bold as well, putting a hand on Bulmond's shoulder. "I think he's right. None of us should have to stay behind on this one. We're all in this together, we are all being targeted. It's time we show them the true power of the Dark Brotherhood."

Madrale grumbled, standing to her feet as they all began to speak all at once, encouraging one another in their statements of zeal. She pounded a fist against the table, causing them to go silent. "I understand your enthusiasm, but there will be other days for you to take your revenge on them. This is a dangerous job: each and every one of our lives will be on the line. This is my mission. I will extract as much information out of Black-Briar as possible, and give our declaration of war."

"Why does Cicero get to go? Why not one of us?' Bulmond crossed his arms against his chest.

"The kid has a point, quit picking favorites!"

Madrale glared at Babette, then glancing at Cicero who coyly made eye contact with her. Favorites, huh? Nazir but an arm around her shoulders, bending down slightly to be level with her ear.

"Come now Madrale, you need help making a scene. If we're going to do this, we need to go out with a BANG! It's the Family's specialty, it always has been." He winked, gaining him a narrowed look.

"Fine." She said through her teeth. Bulmond cheered, giving Mariella a loud clamp on the back. She chuckled, holding her elbows. Cicero stood, dancing over to the Listener's seat. He hung his chin on her shoulder, tapping his fingers along her arms.

"_Fa-fa-fa-FAVORITE!_" He whispered, then laughing as she began to shrug her shoulders.


	16. Declaring War

****A/N: **Hello all. I have an important announcement to make.

First of all, I'm sorry for the delays for this chapter. For the past two weeks I've been under a lot of stress preparing for my Freshman year of college, because I only have another 10 days from now before I go off to work at a camp over the summer. That brings up my main point to this announcement:

I officially start working June 24th, two Mondays from now, and I work till August 16th. After that I have less than a week before I move into campus and adjust to college life. I will try my _very _best to still update during this period of time, because I know that it's easy to forget a lot of things over 10 weeks. (and usually in 10 weeks I get 8 chapters out.)  
It's not going to lack updates because I'm lazy... Though it is _Possible_ that it will be slow because during the time I do have to myself (which is only during day camp weeks, I don't have more than 5 minutes to myself during overnight weeks) I'll be sleeping. I worked over 560 hours last summer, and will work about the same amount this summer. I don't know how my college schedule will affect my writing time, but I'll try my best to keep the weekly updating for both this and Foolish Mortal. But by no means am I quitting on these stories.

By the way, I have been imagining this scene since I listened to the song "J'y Suis Jamais Alle" by Yann Tiersen, a soundtrack to Amelie. It inspired the rain dance scene, and I'd suggest you bring it up on Youtube. ;)

**-Liliedove**

* * *

The wagon creaked side to side as they made their way up a hill. The Listener glanced at Cicero, who sat beside her. He smiled slightly. The sun was already low in the sky, and snow was falling heavily as the wind whistled. Madrale leaned back over the side of the wagon, squinting at what was ahead. The small light given from the driver's shaky lantern revealed little.

"Driver, how long?" She asked.

"Not long now, just over this last hill and then it's not far off." He replied over his shoulder.

Cicero giggled, his feet bouncing in excitement. "Oooh! Won't this be a lot of fun? Madam... _Mirnelea_?" He winked. "This party will be _splendid_, simply SPLENDID! Don't you think?"

A small smile grazed across her face as she folded her hands together inside of her rabbit skin muff. "Splendid indeed! I've heard that the Ambassador invites guests from all over Skyrim; mostly those who who favor the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. There will be quite an excitement."

Cicero's fists shook between one another in the attempt to dam in his exuberance. Throwing his hands in the air, he leaned back and let out a hearty laugh before sighing. "Oh,_ splendid,_ splendid, SPLENDED! Cicero cannot WAIT!"

The driver chuckled, raising his eyebrows as he glanced back at them. "Lucky for you we don't have much farther. See? Look there, up ahead." He pointed with a rein in his hand. They both leaned over the side of the wagon to look at the dark structure in the near distance. Cicero whooped and hollered as they drew nearer, the details of the stone walls and metal fences surrounding the manor became clearer. The Listener was satisfied: it was just as their contact had described, height perception of strength, and density of guards. Thalmor soldiers patrolling the walls stood at attention as their wagon approached, the gate keeper watching them like a hawk as their driver pulled his horse to a stop.

"Halt!" Who goes there? Speak!" The gate keeper called.

The driver rested his hands on his legs, leaning back in his seat. "I've got some guests of your mistress, here for the party."

The gate keeper nodded, yelling something in an Elven tongue to those who stood on the walls. He then tilted his head slightly towards the the driver, perhaps in an attempt to look welcoming, as he unlocked the gate. Once he removed the bolt, he slowly began to open the gate. "Alright then. You may enter."

The driver urged his horse onward, coming a short way into the keep before parking. As Madrale stood to get off the wagon, Cicero offered his hand to assist her. He bowed slightly, a mischievous grin across his face. Looking at his hand for a moment, she placed hers in it as she gathered the hem of her silk dress. "Watch your step!" He hummed. The opening of her slippers left her skin exposed, then to be covered ankle deep in snow. "Oh! This won't do, my Lady! All covered in snow! Oh no, this won't do at all!" Brushing the small piles of snow from her bear hide cloak, he then looked at his own attire. Once a vibrant blue and yellow, the front of his his motley was pelted white. Hastily he brushed himself off, repositioning his own cloak that was worn and made out of a dark blue fabric. His large hood cast a long shadow over his face, leaving the whites of his eyes glowing.

A guard approached, clearing her throat. "EXCUSE me if you will." Cicero and the Listener looked at her, still standing before the wagon. "I will need your invitation before I can allow you to enter the manor."

Cicero took a step forward, clenching his jaw. "My Lady is a highly esteemed guest! Dare you question her!"

Madrale put an arm in front of him as the the guard looked at him with caution, stopped short from being allowed to verbally defend herself as her hand lingered back towards her mace. "Please forgive my servant, he is very... protective of me. I am Mirnelea Helbenar, Thane of Riften. I was invited by my Jarl, Maven Black-Briar, though it seems that she forgot to send me official invitations. She said that her name would be enough to get me in."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but without an invitation you are not allowed to enter. If you cannot produce a proper invitation, I am afraid you will have to leave."

Another guard approached her, calling her name as he eyed the guests. "Vallisara! Let them through."

She scowled, not taking her eyes off of them. "I will not do such a thing! These are the rules."

He stopped not far behind her, staring at the back of her head. "I said, let them through. If she was invited by Maven Black-Briar, then by no means do we dare deny them entrance. This could cause us more trouble than not if we send them back at this point."

The womer paused for a moment, wrestling with her thoughts. Shaking her head with a small sigh out of her nose, she began walking away. "Alright then, it'll be on your head if we get in trouble."

He then turned to Cicero and the Listener, bowing his head slightly. "Forgive my comrade, she is only following her orders. I am sorry for your inconvenience. Naturally one would need to bring an official invitation, but seeing that it was Maven Black-Briar who has invited you we will be more than happy to welcome you to the Embassy. Please, follow me this way."

"My Lady." Cicero said as he bowed, offering his arm. Gingerly wrapping her hand around his arm, they followed the guard to the entrance. He bowed once more, apologizing again for the inconvenience as he opened the doors. As soon as he had done so, the sweet sound of music began drifting towards them: stringed instruments of many sorts, played in the most peculiar style: certainly something only heard in the Summerset Isles.

"Enjoy the ball. It is not often that the Ambassador hosts one of these kinds of parties." He said as he closed the doors behind them.

Pausing for but a moment, they gracefully walked through the front hall; the music growing richer with each step they took, as well as the scent of savory foods. All about the open room were elves and men, womer and women: dressed richly in satins, silks, and velvets. Wide skirts flowed through the room as partners twisted them in a dance, all close together since many people were jammed in a rather small room for a ball. Cicero threw his hood off his head, revealing a mane of red hair; he insisted that the only jester's hat he could wear was his very own. He then took Madrale's fur cloak, handing it to one of the servants. Before they had made much of an advancement into the room, they were approached by a womer wearing Aldmeri robes. She greeted them warmly, but not without a sense of hesitancy. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe we have met before. At least, you're not on my frequent guest list."

The Listener stood properly, making eye contact with the womer. "I am Jarl Black-Briar's Thane, Mirnelea Helbenar. I was recently appointed when her position became official. She insisted I come."

The Ambassador looked her over over briefly, seemingly content with what she saw. "Ah yes, Maven Black-Briar mentioned you herself. I know her quite well, she's a frequent attender. It is about time Riften came back into the hands of the Imperials. The other holds are falling nicely into the Empire's hands now, but it took a good deal of patience on our part. You are lucky to serve under such a woman; I cannot help but admire her myself. Well, it's time I speak with other guests. I hope you thoroughly enjoy this party. But, before I go please tell me who this... odd man who accompanies you is."

Cicero threw a short jig before giving a swooping bow. Madrale turned to present him. "This is my servant. I chose him to escort me her safely."

"I see..." The Ambassador gave them a strange look before turning to look at something else. "Again, I bit you farewell."

As she walked away, the Listener began scanning the crowd for Maven Black-Briar. After another minute of searching, she frowned; the room was simply too crowded with heads and trailing fabrics to see anything from where they stood on the edge of it all. The hair on the back of her neck stood as she felt a hand graze her arm.

"Standing here won't get us anywhere. Blending with the crowd would be best." He turned before her, bowing greatly his his hand over his chest. Glancing up, he took one of her hands. "Shall we dance? Surely if never again, you'll allow Cicero to dance with his wife just once. We must blend in anyhow, and you know how much Cicero loves to dance, even if it's not in his suited style."

Madrale's mouth hung open for a moment, her heart leaping up in her chest. Glancing down at the ringed hand he held, she looked again at the crowd. He did have a point... At least, about blending in. As if reading her thoughts, he pulled her out on the dance floor, merging them in with the crowd. As he held her hand with in one of his own, he put his other hand on her hip. A thrill ran up his spin, such an intimate moment! A moment he knew wouldn't last nearly as long as he'd like. Knowing this he danced a little closer, leading her all along the perimeter. They past the musicians, who sat in a candle-lit corner, and a barmaid handing out champagne. They past Thanes and Jarls, Thalmor and Imperials: there were many things that sent a thrill up his spine this night, all the things they had planned: but none so much as being allowed to be so close to his beloved Listener, his very own wife. Dancing, they were DANCING together! Before he only wanted to dance for the Night Mother, but now... Now there was someone else he wanted to dance for. Nae, someone he wanted to dance _with._ Forever. He chuckled softly, craning his head in a little closer to her.

"I remember another time I made you dance. That time was more fun, to be sure! But you walked away so quickly, leaving Cicero hungry for more. There may be snow, but at least there's no rain." He winked at her. She furrowed her brow together apprehensively, as though she couldn't decide how to react. At the same time the smallest of smiles appeared on her face.

"Well I also recall you not taking no for an answer." She snickered a little. "Yes, at least it's not raining."

As the song came to an end, so did their dancing; but Cicero's hands remained. He stared into her eyes, which were on equal footing as his own. He was a rather short man. He had always known that, and she was an elf, naturally taller than an Imperial woman. But at the moment, by Sithis he didn't give a damn. It was a perfect level: perfect for staring right into her eyes, right into her soul that she hid so well. Slowly bringing his hand up, he brushed her cheek with his bare hand. Would she reject him? Pull away? It felt riskier without the barrier of his gloves between his and her skin. She didn't move. She simply looked right back into his eyes, momentarily forgetting everything else that was going on. His breath became caught in his throat as the next song began to play. In the next moment, he was pulled back to reality as someone addressed him.

"Excuse me, I'd like to steal your dance partner." There before them was a woman. She held her hands behind her back as she gave them a rather unsettling smile. "It's good to see you... Thane Mirnelea Helbenar. It's been so long! I never thought I'd see... your _particular_ face again."

"Maven Black-Briar. We finally meet... _again_." The gentle look on Madrale's face was gone, now donning the face of the Listener. The woman then gave her attention over to her.

"Yes,_ finally_... Now if you don't mind." She glanced at Cicero. Madrale signaled him to leave. Bowing, he left. After he had done so, Maven looked at the Listener again, raising her eyebrows. "Now, the next song has already begun. It is time we start dancing."

"Dancing?" She scoffed. "Is it socially acceptable for two women to dance?"

"Oh come now," she waved her hand. "I can do whatever I please! Besides... It's the best way to keep others from over hearing things. I'm sure you'd like to keep things... Private, yes?" She put her hand out. The Listener took it, then stepping out on the floor once more. "Really Listener, you do keep things under tight bindings now don't you? You clean up quite well too. Nice dress, though I'm not particularly a fan of yellow and blue on dark elves myself."

"And what of you? You seem rather dressed down for a ball." She retorted as she was spun gracefully.

"Well I'm here on business, as always. I don't want to come across as... Simply a proper lady, now do I? No, I have no need for beauty and seduction to get what I want." She then laughed. "I had many theories as to who you were really, but to think that you were the one who has always been a pest to my ambitions in Riften? It's laughable, really! And that companion of yours: where do you come across such strange creatures? You surely do have a sense of cruelty, leading him on like that... Oh those EYES he makes at you!"

"Actually, that_ creature _just so happens to be my husband."

Maven Black-Briar smiled in disbelief, her expression wide. "Really now? You can't be serious! Oh, though I suppose you are, aren't you. Your kind is so strange... Not just the Dunmer race, but your... what did he call it? Yes, that's right-_ family_."

"You're one to talk. You get involved with everyone."

"It's simply business, nothing more. So, you're ready to speak to me now are you?"

"I had been busy, but you seemed to have become rather... pushy. With your resources, I'd think you wouldn't have to stoop to such levels."

"Stoop?" She laughed. "Surely, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Turning in my identity? Burning my HOME?"

Maven Black-Briar's face brightened in understanding. "Oh yes, I remember hearing about that! A pity really, you were doing so well in Riften. But I can assure you that I didn't have a hand in any of that. All the credit goes to Laila Law-Giver and the Empire for this one."

* * *

Nazir and Babette stared up at Bulmond, who lay on his belly on a branch towering high above them. Bulmond counted the guards on patrol of the wall. He lipped each number, looking it over two more times to make sure he had spotted each and every guard. He then slowly backed off the branch of the tree, slowly bringing himself up on his knees. As he made his way down the tree, he wobbled, panicking as he slid down the tree. He sighed once he landed safely on his feet.

"Nice landing." Nazir snickered. Bulmond's face burned as he glared back at him, folding his arms as he was about to say something. He then tsked, wincing as he released his arms quickly. Nazir raised a brow. "You okay there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" He barked, looking down at the ground as he massaged his left shoulder. "And I'd like to see you do better. I still don't see why I was the one who had to scout."

Nazir scoffed. "I'm from the Akavir Ashlands. How should I know how to climb a tree?"

"Funny, I'm pretty sure you've lived in Skyrim longer than I've been alive_ old man_. Anyway, I'm from Winterhold. What about Winterhold makes you think of trees?"

Nazir began walking ahead, drawing the loose fabric of his turban closer to his face to shield himself from the cold. Bulmond glared at the back of his head. "Look kid, we've already gone through this. You were the most fit. You're alive still, aren't you? You did just fine."

"If Svenja were still here, she would have done better." He mumbled.

Babette, who stood beside him, glanced up at him with a disgruntled expression on her face. "If I recall correctly, she's the reason why we're in this mess. You better remember who your true family is, or you'll be the next to leave." She began following after Nazir. Pausing for a moment, she glanced back at Bulmond. "You haven't been taking very good care of that arm like I told you to, have you?"

He looked off to the side, his lips pursed for a moment. "It's fine, really. It just got in a strange position from my fall down the tree, that's all." Babette shook her head, then moving again. Bulmond quietly caught up, stopping when they found Nazir kneeling in the snow before the wall.

Nazir glanced up at both of them, nodding to each in the understanding that they must be quiet from then on. He took a scroll from his belt, unrolling it. His eyes flickered between the two of them once more. Babette removed a vile from her backpack, showing it. Bulmond followed suit, then putting the small scrolls back in his own pack. Nazir nodded his head, then muttering something under his breath as he held the scroll. A light popping sound could be heard as the paper disintegrated, a stone stairway now leading up the wall.

Nazir was the first to ascend the stairs, cautiously looking side to side as he lightly landed on the other side. He then waved the others forward. Next was Babette, whom Nazir helped land softly from the ten foot drop. Once Bulmond was over, Nazir bid them farewell and made off in another direction.

"Are you ready?" Babette whispered. Bulmond nodded his head. "Good, better start here." Removing one of the bottles from her pack, she removed the cork. She trickled some of the liquid across the foundations of the manor. Once she glanced at him, Bulmond removed a scroll from his pack, placing it a few inches away from the small puddle. "Okay, now activate it. We'll have fifty seconds to place the rest of them before it goes off."

"I'm not sure if I can do this, I'm a Nord." He whispered.

Babette rolled her eyes at him, forcing his hand on it. "Come on, this is a novice scroll!" She said hoarsely. Bulmond released a shaky sigh, then closing his eyes as he muttered the word she had told him to say when they first planned their attack. Babette then pulled at his arm, bringing him over to another part of the wall. "Don't dawdle, we don't have much time!"

As they came around the corner, Bulmond pulled her back, hugging is back to the wall. Two guards were coming their way, looking straight forward. He pulled his lip in, unsure of what to do. Slowly, he reached for his axe.

"Hey! What's the big deal?" The sound of Nazir's voice in the distance made the guards freeze, looking towards the gateway.

"Sir, I don't even know how you gained entrance, but without an invitation you are not allowed to enter the manor! I must ask you to leave!"

"Nonsense!" Nazir exclaimed. "I was told by my buddy that this was the perfect place to drink!"The guards then turned to assist the gate keeper. Bulmond gave a sigh of relief before Babette started pulling at his hand again. Nazir smiled as he drew the guards' attention. "You don't think I have the money to pay, do you? I can assure you I do!"

"Sir, you need to leave."

Nazir glanced at a window on the second floor. Leaning out against it was Cicero, who gave him a sight wave. He snickered at the grin he was given. He then glanced over to see that Babette and Bulmond were nearly done with their task. Looking back at Cicero again, he shook his head, sighing as he waved his hand in the air. "Fine then!" He declared loudly. "I've never liked the Thalmor anyway!"

* * *

The Listener stared at Maven Black-Briar, frozen as the woman laughed. "Did you really think that it was me who was behind that? I must say, I'm quite flattered by the assumption! But no, that wasn't me at all! Why, until tonight I had no idea who you were! Of course, once I did see you I knew who you were almost immediately... Madrale Uvani. You always have been a thorn in my side, haven't you?"

"As you a thorn in mine." The Listener stopped their dance, giving the woman a menacing stare.

Maven's eyes were merry, a smirk plastered across her face. "I wouldn't do anything here, you're in the enemy's camp. Now, shall we discuss my conditions to keeping this knowledge under wraps?"

Before the Listener could speak, Cicero bounded back by her side, tugging her arm. Madrale then smiled wickedly, throwing a wall of frost through the crowd. As they parted, she and Cicero went back to back, Madrale throwing a spell on the both of them that reverted them to their usual attire. She glared at the crowed through her hood, the guests releasing shrieks of terror as the guards began acting against them.

"BEHOLD!" She declared. "I have been summoned her by none other than Maven Black-Briar, your fellow elite! But by no meaning am I an ally of hers; nae, I am here to declare war on all of you! I, the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood! Lord Sithis and the Night Mother are declaring war against Maven Black-Briar, the Empire, and all who aid them!"

* * *

"Just one more." Babette whispered. Nazir was being escorted out, their plan going just as they had devised it. Bulmond looked over his shoulder at the guards before they moved on to the next spot. She went to pour the liquid out, frowning when there wasn't quite enough. She quickly rustled through her pack for another bottle, uncorking the next. "Alright, now put down your-"

"YOU THERE!"

She gasped, Bulmond then quickly activating the scroll before throwing it down. Other guards joined the one that had first spotted them, a formation barracking them in. Bulmond pulled his axe out, stepping in front of Babette. "Well hi there." He grinned nervously.

"Look at his armor, he's certainly not one of the Empire: seize him!" One cried.

They were all then thrown as one of the props exploded, and then the next one, and then the next; chunks of the manor flying in the air as fire sprawled out across the premises. Within the manor, the people tripped over themselves, some screaming all the more from the flames now spreading through the room. Cicero winked at Madrale. "Cicero did just as he was told."

"It's time to go." She replied. Cicero nodded his head, then merging into a fight with the guards, his dagger in hand. Casting a conjuration spell, Madrale summoned a Storm Atronach. Within seconds, the challenged was met, for two Storm Atronachs were summoned against it. She cursed under her breath. The Thalmor were known for their conjuration skills, and she wouldn't put it past them to have stationed a fellow master conjurer in even a place such as Skyrim. As the rafters shook violently as more explosions went off, fire consuming the room, she quickly made her way out of the Manor. As she glanced back, she saw Cicero making his way in her direction, continuing to fight hand in hand with the enemy. She then cloaked herself in fire, bursting out a window as she made her way to the escape route.


End file.
